


You Can't Make Honey Without A Few Stings

by MittenWraith



Series: Tumblr Anonymous [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bees, Dean vs his feelings, F/M, Fluff, M/M, better living through tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 05:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4379759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MittenWraith/pseuds/MittenWraith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas work through their plans to move in together, but Dean's history of running headlong into relationships only to have them end in disaster makes him rethink what he's doing with Cas. He's afraid he's going to repeat his mistakes of the past, and reacts in a typically Dean fashion, leaving Cas wondering what the hell he did wrong. Let's watch as these two knuckleheads continue their ridiculous courtship ritual, shall we?</p><p>This picks up the morning after Project Beyonce leaves off, so it'll probably make a lot more sense if you read that first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which Dean and Cas spend the morning being disgustingly cute and couple-y.

Dean wakes up Saturday morning exactly the way he wants to wake up every morning-- if only he didn’t have, you know, a job, and responsibilities, and a moose of a brother to put through at least two more years of college, and a mortgage on his house he’s a still few years from paying off. At least the garage is all his now, so that’s one worry off his plate. The next worry in need of attention isn’t really much of a worry at all, seeing how the object of said worry is currently curled around Dean’s side, exhaling warm tickling breaths against his neck. The worries revolving around Cas are more accurately described as technicalities and logistics at this point.

See? Dean doesn’t need a new dictionary to redefine a few of his biggest fears, now that Cas has become a very real part of his life, rather than the nebulous online presence he’d been for so long.

Sure, they’d only met in person a week ago, but after trading increasingly personal anonymous messages on Tumblr for over a year, it doesn’t feel like they’re rushing into anything. At least, not most of the time.

Twenty four hours after he asked Cas to move in with him, Dean lies in bed wondering how soon they can make their plans a reality. Sure, they’d talked about it in a sort of vague _conditional_ (to use Cas’s word) sort of way, but it wasn’t like they’ve had a chance to lay down a solid plan of action.

After the party at the garage last night, where Dean had presented Cas with the mostly-rebuilt Bel Air (fulfilling one of Cas’s two _conditions_ for moving so far away from the university, and losing his weekly ride to the orchard on the north edge of town tend to his bees), Dean has been afraid to bring up the subject of moving in together again. He may have broached the subject the first time, but now that he’s removed the biggest obstacle on his end-- other than running the idea past Sammy to get his approval, which he thinks is pretty much a guarantee-- he feels it’s up to Cas to decide what to do with his offer.

Cas had stuck around throughout the party, never venturing far from Dean’s side. He even stayed afterwards to help clean up. They’d had an understanding that Cas would stay the weekend with Dean, but it still caught him off guard when Cas climbed into his Baby at the end of the night as if the passenger seat had always been reserved just for him. Thinking about Cas sitting there, smiling at him as they drove home together, sets his heart racing like a swarm of bees behind his rib cage, buzzing wildly and pounding against his ribs.

Much as he might want it, Dean knows that this is something new and strange, and maybe a wee bit terrifying for the both of them. With his history of pushing relationships a little too hard and inadvertently pushing the other person away, Dean’s extra-cautious of doing the same thing with Cas. He’s already pushed enough, he thinks, offering his whole life to the man within a week of meeting him face to face. If that wasn’t enough, he’d thrown in a classic Chevy to sweeten the deal.

Imagining Cas behind the wheel of the Bel Air, driving through the countryside to visit his bees, he can’t help but smile down at the man sleeping peacefully in his arms. If you’d told him last Friday that he’d be here just over a week later, he’d have laughed in your face. No, he isn’t about to push his luck any harder, thanks. He’ll wait for Cas to make the next move.

Cas’s next move, as it turns out, happens just a few minutes later. Dean’s drifted off on a tide of contentment when he’s roused by Cas waking up, burrowing face-first down into his neck and shoulder, stubble grazing across his sensitive skin. It’s all Dean can do not to laugh and push Cas away, because as good as it feels to have Cas pressing his entire body against him, that’s a tickly way to wake up, dammit.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean makes a weak attempt to fend off his bristly octopus of a lover. “Cas!”

Cas grumbles something unintelligible into Dean’s neck, before planting a kiss there, and finally emerging, blinking away the last of the night’s sleep and grinning up at Dean. “Hello, Dean.”

“Mornin’ Cas.” Dean makes a show of acting grumpy, but he can’t hold on to it for more than a second while staring down into Cas’s eyes. He drags the backs of his fingers along Cas’s jaw, intending to make some comment about needing a shave, but that plan goes straight out the window and he goes in for a kiss instead. It turns out to be a much better plan.

Morning sex followed by a long, drawn-out shower might be an effective delay tactic when faced with potentially life-altering discussions, but Dean knows that eventually the happy little bubble they woke up in would pop. As nice as it is to cocoon themselves away for a while, the inevitable realities they have to face come knocking sooner than Dean hoped they would. The first of those realities knocks on their bedroom door while they’re getting dressed for the day. Or, mostly trying to get dressed for the day. They’d be a lot farther along in the process if Dean didn’t have Cas pinned to the wall in an attempt to keep him from putting a shirt on.

“Dean!” Sam bangs on the door again. “Jess and I are going to be in the living room studying, so please, for the love of all that is holy, put some pants on before you come downstairs.”

Cas laughs. “Is that something I should be aware of, Dean? Do you regularly wander around the house without pants on?”

“What? No!” Dean stares at Cas, catching the twinkle of mischief in his eyes, and slumps. “Maybe.”

“Are you a closet nudist, Dean? I only ask because if you want me to live here with you, I feel I should know what I’m getting myself into. Full disclosure, and all that.”

Dean sighs, stepping back so they can actually finish putting their clothes on. Damn his outsized moose of a brother for interfering in his fun. “I was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, and a long robe. It’s not like I just prance around naked, for fuck’s sake. It’s my house, anyway. If they have a problem with my wardrobe, they can go hang out at Jess’s place.”

After finishing his little rant while pulling his t-shirt over his head, he glances up to see Cas grinning at him, and realizes that regardless of what Sam might think of his odd little habits, he isn’t sure how _Cas_ would feel about them. Now that Dean’s basically said he doesn’t care what anyone thinks, and if they don’t like it they can just get out, he wonders if he maybe should’ve found a less hostile-sounding way to defend himself.

Cas sees the deer-in-the-headlights look on Dean’s face, and steps closer to rest his hands comfortingly on Dean’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t care if you dressed up like Tarzan and swung from the light fixtures. Well, on second thought, that might prove to be more than a little bit distracting.” Cas’s eyes unfocus as he pictures the scene in his head and he loses the thread of what he’s trying to say, until Dean snorts and pulls him in for a kiss.

“We should probably save the leopard print loincloth for the bedroom, then. I’ll stick to my dead guy robe around the rest of the house.”

“Dead guy robe?” Cas asks, pulling back with a slight look of alarm.

Dean shrugs. “I got it at an estate sale a few years ago. Some old dude was cleaning out his grandfather’s attic, and found a bunch of weird shit from some secret society he’d belonged to. Sammy bought a bunch of creepy-ass books about monsters and demons and shit, and I picked up the robe and a couple of cool swords.” He points to the swords in question, neatly displayed on a rack above his dresser. “Just be careful. They’re very sharp. Which I found out the hard way.”

Cas just smirks at him, and repeats, “Dead guy robe. Okay. I think I can live with that.”

Dean feels relieved enough by Cas’s reaction to joke about it. “Huh, good. Because the robe is awesome. I’ll spare them today, but I’m not giving up my robe. Come on.” Dean takes Cas by the hand and leads him downstairs. “If I can’t torment them with a scandalous flash of an ankle, I’ll torment them with the smell of pancakes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean and Cas move the morning's cute couple-ness onto the internet, and then are forced confront the strange behavior of frazzled college students in their living room.

Dean’s got a pan of bacon sizzling on the stove, and a stack of pancakes staying warm in the oven. Cas sets the table and starts a pot of coffee, before settling himself down at the table to watch Dean work. With nothing else to do, he finds himself daydreaming about seeing Dean like this every day, humming and singing off key under his breath as he prepares a meal for them. Dean keeps sneaking glances at Cas over his shoulder, as if he needs to be sure that Cas hasn’t suddenly vanished while he has his back turned, and it’s doing strange things to Cas’s insides. He’s not sure if he should be making some noise, or standing at the counter where Dean can see him without turning around, or something; but he’s mesmerized just watching Dean, and he doesn’t want to get in the way of the cook.

It’s not long before Cas hesitantly brings up another point from the reality checklist. Strangely, it’s not the one Dean was expecting to hear next, but he can’t really complain.

“Do you mind if I use your laptop?” Cas asks, pointing at the computer across the table from him. “I haven’t checked my tumblr since I posted the picture of you with the car yesterday. I’m sort of dreading my inbox.”

“Heh, yeah. Go for it.”

Rather than rearrange the place settings he’d laid out so neatly, Cas shifts over to the chair in front of the computer and logs in to his account. And groans.

“Forty seven new messages.” He clicks on the inbox.

“Are they all still speculating on whether or not I’m a real person?” Dean grins over at Cas and shuts off the stove. He’s still bustling around, setting their plates on the table and pouring coffee while Cas reads through his messages.

“It seems most of them believe you are real, now,” Cas replies, absently scrolling through the rest of the messages. “A lot of them are wondering how long we’ve been secretly dating. Hang on.” He stops scrolling, and rereads the last message. It reads, _She’ll be a much better looking gift on Tuesday, when she’s got a new coat of paint. I hope you like her anyway, even if she’s still a little rough around the edges. From your #Fiance Anon (who’s also a little rough around the edges)._ “When did you have time to send a message yesterday?”

Dean sits down, setting a mug of coffee by Cas’s plate. “You were talking with Charlie for a while, and I was trying to avoid talking to anyone else. Now come over here and eat while it’s hot. You can answer your fans after breakfast.”

Cas brightens up the moment he sees the food, and abandons the laptop for the time being. Between sips of coffee, he asks, “You really don’t mind our relationship playing out in front of an audience, do you? Because I can stop talking about our personal lives online, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Dean bites off a crispy mouthful of bacon and shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. I mean, our entire relationship, up until last week, anyway, happened on your blog for everyone to see. It’s not like you’re gonna start posting pictures of us in bed or anything. I mean,” Dean swallows hard. “You’re not, right?”

Cas nearly spits out his coffee. “No, Dean. I have no intention of revealing anything more intimate than the photo of your flannel-clad shoulder I posted yesterday. Your internet porn career is not about to take off, at least not on my blog.”

“Well, all right, then.” Dean takes a big bite of syrupy pancake, and then washes it down with the rest of his coffee. “So, what exactly do you want to tell your followers? Do you still want to keep them guessing about us?”

“I already posted a picture of your pie and my cake side by side on your kitchen counter. I’ve answered a mountain of asks from people who wanted to know everything, from whether or not I’d be willing to post our recipes, to questions about how long we’ve known each other in real life. I answered as many of them as I could privately, told them I’d ask you about posting your pecan pie recipe, and told the rest to pay close attention to the blog, and they’ll have their questions answered soon enough. I’ve also ignored an even larger number of anonymous asks that I wasn’t sure how to answer publicly on the blog, at least until after I discussed them with you first.”

“Heh,” Dean says, refilling his mug. “I guess that’s the downside to falling for one of your anons. The rest of your followers are invested in us, like we were a couple of characters on a tv show or something.”

“That’s probably a fair assessment,” Cas replies. “At least we both have mostly retained our anonymity, and aren’t swarmed in the streets by autograph hunters, or harassed by paparazzi every time we open the front door.”

Dean cringes a little at the notion. It was weird enough in the weeks after he’d been on tv for the car auction, and he’d only been recognized around town a half a dozen times or so. “Yeah, and it’s not like we have an audience of thousands hanging on our every move.”

Cas chokes on a bite of pancake, blushing a little, which Dean sincerely hopes is a reaction to the choking.

“We… don’t have an audience of thousands, right?”

“Maybe just a few thousand,” Cas replies, poking at his remaining pancakes with his fork. “Like, twelve. Thousand? I think? I don’t really keep track of them all.”

Dean sits back in his chair, thinking about that for a minute. He has over thirty thousand people following his shop blog, and his posts often include personal anecdotes and little stories from his own life that are relevant to the updates he writes about his restoration projects. It’s not like he’d object to sharing the same sort of details on Cas’s blog, but taken as a whole, thinking back over all the conversations they’ve had over more than a year, it does feel a little weird knowing how many people might’ve been following along, watching their relationship develop like some sort of soap opera.

“Dean?” Cas drops his fork, and scoots his chair closer to Dean to rest one hand on his knee. “If you’re uncomfortable with this I can stop talking about you online.”

Dean has already come to a decision, though. He takes a deep breath and grabs Cas’s hand. “Nah, I’m fine with it. I mean, they’ve stuck around this long, watching us be idiots who danced around each other for more than a year. They deserve to see the payoff.”

Cas grins, squeezes Dean’s hand, and then quickly swaps out his nearly empty plate for the laptop. “Let me show you what I’ve got here, then.”

They spend the next hour sorting through messages, deciding together how to answer. A few aren’t anonymous messages, and Cas identifies the ones from people he considers online friends, despite not knowing most of them in real life. He gives them more detailed answers to their questions, and Dean even relents to sharing his pecan pie recipe with a few of them, including Cas’s brother, Gabriel.

“He’ll probably add your pie to the menu at his bakery,” Cas warns Dean, figuring full disclosure is required for Dean to make an informed decision about sharing any dessert recipe with Gabriel. “I can demand he only sell it if he gives you credit for the recipe, if you’d like.”

Dean just shrugs. “My mom would be proud her pie’s good enough for a famous Chicago bakery. Let him have it. More power to him.”

Cas chuckles darkly and shakes his head. “If you knew my brother, you wouldn’t throw such sentiments around so cavalierly.” But he sends the recipe along to Gabriel with Dean’s blessings.

When it comes to answering the anons, Cas determines it’ll be easier to group the similar questions together, and then answer them all in a single post, sort of like a long and rambling FAQ of the whole Bumblebee and Fiance Anon saga. They winnow it down until it’s as brief as they can make it without completely dodging any of the questions on their list. What they end up posting conveys everything they’re willing to share, at least for now.

Cas takes one last look at Dean to confirm he’s ready for this, and then clicks the post button. All they can do is sit back and see if they’ve satisfied everyone’s curiosity, or just inspired a new wave of questions.

Dean rereads the post on his phone while Cas gets up to wash the dishes and tidy up from breakfast. He insists-- even over Dean’s protests that guests shouldn’t wash dishes-- stating that he isn’t technically a guest anymore, since Dean had invited him to live there. Dean shuts up and lets Cas do his thing. It’s keeping him distracted from anxiously hitting the page refresh button while waiting for reactions to roll in.

Cas has never used his name on his blog, which was one of the reasons it took Dean more than a year to discover his real identity. He’s more than happy to extend that anonymity to Dean, and continue to refer to him simply as the Fiance Anon. They decide it’s safer that way, as much for Cas’s privacy as it is for Dean’s.

They’d answered everything they were asked, to one degree or another. Just rereading the list of questions and answers makes Dean feel a little giddy.

 

_You and the #Fiance Anon have met in real life? How long have you known each other?_

Yes, it’s true, we accidentally-on-purpose revealed our identities to each other last weekend. So, about a week.

_Are you two really a couple?_

Yes, we are seeing each other regularly now.

_Did your #Fiance Anon really GIVE YOU A CAR? Is it a cool car?_

Yes, and yes.

_Do you think he’d give me a car?_

I doubt it. (Dean had laughed himself silly at Cas’s answer to that one, but Cas is kind enough to leave that out of his reply)

 _Are you guys really engaged?_ (Cas nervously shoots Dean a look at this question, but when Dean just sits there blinking at him, he decides it's best to just be vague)

Maybe someday? See the first question and answer. We only properly met a week ago. (Cas nearly types that they are taking things slow, before realizing they’re already planning to move in together, and by most people’s standards, that’s anything but slow. One glance at Dean, though, and he knows they’re not moving too fast. Nothing has ever felt this right before, and he lets the answer stand as it is.)

 _Is your Fiance Anon going to stay on anon, or are we going to find out who he is? I’d like to follow him, too._ (Cas lets Dean answer this one on his own)

Hey, it’s #Fiance Anon here for this one. And yeah, for now I’m staying on anon. Bumblebee knows who I am, and you all know more than enough about me as it is. I don’t really blog much, and I swear you’re not missing out on anything. Just ask Bumblebee. I’ll keep sending him asks, and I think that’s all the attention I need for now. Maybe I’ll start a separate Fiance Anon blog someday. (Dean doesn’t bother to add that he might already kinda-sorta have the fianceanon.tumblr.com URL held in reserve, just in case.)

 _Can you guys post a selfie?_ (Dean thinks this one over for a minute or two, and decides he’d be okay with it if Cas is. Cas counters with the option of posting just a picture of their shadows standing side by side, or a picture of their feet intertwined on the coffee table while they're relaxing on the couch. Dean agrees. They have plans to take such a picture and post it later in the day.)

We’ll think about it.

_I wanted to wish you both the best. I’ve been reading the Fiance Anon posts since the beginning, and I’m so happy for you both. I hope you’ll keep us updated._

Thank you so much. Your good wishes are appreciated. We will continue to post as we always have, though my dear Fiance Anon may not feel compelled to send me such frequent anon asks anymore. He seems to prefer receiving his replies in person now, which is perfectly agreeable to me.

 

Dean rereads Cas’s last answer three times, then checks to make sure Cas is still busy tidying up the counter before sending a new anon message. _So, Bumblebee, are you going to reply to this question in person? Or would you rather I’d just asked out loud and saved the bother of typing it? (of course it’s from your #Fiance Anon. I’m just waiting for you to turn around and wonder why the hell I’m grinning like an idiot over here)_.

Cas finishes up at the sink, and approaches the laptop cautiously, as if were a wild animal. He glances over at Dean, brightening considerably when he sees the dopey, contented smile on his lover’s face. He blushes just as quickly when he realizes he’s started mentally referring to Dean as _my lover_ , and covers his sudden bout of embarrassment by refreshing his inbox.

The very first message at the top of the list is Dean’s. Cas laughs, leaning his forehead against Dean’s shoulder as Dean hugs him tightly.

Cas stretches up and kisses him, and then waits until he has Dean’s full attention. “I’ll answer you both ways, Dean. I will always answer you.”

He eventually types out a reply to Dean’s ask. _I do enjoy the sound of your voice, Fiance Anon, but it only seems fair to answer you here, so you don’t think I’m deliberately ignoring you. And you don’t look like an idiot. You just look happy._

After he posts his reply, Cas shows it to Dean. “You have no idea how hard it was to remember to type Fiance Anon instead of Dean there. I’ll have to be careful.”

Dean grins. “Yeah, I probably wouldn’t be mad if you slipped. You can always edit posts if you do, and anyone who sees them before you fix it will feel like they’re in on some big secret.”

“So you really don’t mind any of this?” Cas waves his hand at the computer screen.

“Nope. If it wasn’t for all of that,” Dean mimics Cas’s handwave, “We wouldn’t be here right now. I’ll consider anything that happens from here on out a sort of sacrifice to the Tumblr Gods for bringing us together.”

 

When they eventually make their way out of the kitchen, they’re confronted with Sam and Jess in full study mode. There are books spread out everywhere. The couch, coffee table, and floor have been redecorated with Sam’s government books and Jess’s anatomy texts and notes. Dean has no idea how she can study diagrams of internal organs while popping gummy bears like an addict. It takes a lot to get between Dean and food, but he’s pretty sure chewing squishy candy while contemplating the inner workings of spleens would probably do the trick. It’s grossing him out just thinking about it, so he tries to keep his focus on the Harry Potter movie playing quietly on the television as background noise.

Dean used to get frustrated with Sam’s insistence that he studies better for tests with a familiar movie as a soundtrack, but he stopped arguing with him about it years ago. If Sam can remember facts about obscure court verdicts or mathematical formulas when he can associate them to a quidditch match or a trip through the Mines of Moria, then who is he to question the results?

On screen, Harry’s just arriving back at King’s Cross Station after his first year at Hogwarts, and Dean knows that means there’ll be a study break here in just a few minutes. He holds Cas back in the doorway to the living room. It’s about time to tackle Cas’s final _condition._

The closing credits begin to roll, and Sam pops up like a jack in the box, his brain instantly switching from STUDY MODE to BREAK TIME. Dean had been expecting it, but Cas most certainly hadn’t. The moment Sam springs to his feet, Dean feels Cas’s startled little jump, and tries really hard not to smile.

“You get used to the moose’s strange behaviors after a while,” Dean mutters to Cas instead.

Cas just nods, and follows Dean out into the living room.

“Hey, Sammy. Jess. Big test coming up?”

Sam’s already crouched over the dvd player, swapping out the disc for _Chamber of Secrets_. “Yeah, midterms this week.”

Jess stretches her arms up over her head, and then flops face first into the textbook spread out on the floor in front of her. “So many midterms.”

Cas chuckles under his breath. “I, alas, will be feeling the pinch of midterms later this week, when Professor Cain and Professor Moseley hand a few hundred of them to me for grading.”

Dean forgets his original purpose in interrupting the surreal living room study hall session, and turns to Cas. “They make you grade papers? Is that part of your TA duties?”

Cas shrugs, and nods. “Sort of. Obviously, the professor’s final assessment will be the one that counts, but they take my notes and comments into consideration. It also saves them the hassle of reading the truly abysmal papers.”

“Damn,” Dean shakes his head. “That really sucks.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Cas replies, grinning. “Well, they pay me enough to live on, anyway.”

That brings Dean’s thoughts back around to the task at hand. “Speaking of living. Sammy? You got a minute?”

“Yeah,” he checks the clock on his laptop. “I got about fifteen, actually. What’s up?”

Dean glances over at Jess, who appears to have fallen asleep, still face down in her book. He shoots a concerned look at Sam, who smiles fondly over at the lump of his girlfriend.

“She’ll be out cold until I start the next movie.” He grins at Dean, who still looks a little worried, and shrugs. “You get used to it. So, what can I do for you guys?”

Dean turns to look at Cas over his shoulder, and then reaches down and grabs his hand, pulling him forward to stand at his side. He clears his throat, then takes a deep breath, prepared for whatever reaction Sam might give him. He’s got a list of arguments and defenses ready, but dammit, it’s harder than he expected it to be. He takes another deep breath, and just spits it out. “IaskedCastomoveinwithme.”

A little smile twitches at the corner of Sam’s mouth, but he isn’t willing to let Dean off that easy. “What was that?”

“I asked Cas to move in. With me. Us. Here. To live here. With me.”

Sam’s threatening little smile explodes into a grin, and a muffled, “That’s so awesome. Congrats,” comes from the rumpled pile of Jess across the room. She even raises an arm with a weak thumbs up gesture before letting it drop back to the carpet.

Sam snorts, but pats Dean on the shoulder. “Yeah, what she said.”

“So that’s it?” Cas asks, looking from Dean to Sam, and then back to Dean. “You don’t have any objections?”

Sam considers him carefully, like an art critic about to deliver a scathing review of some new sculpture, and then laughs again. “Nah, man. I think it’s great. So long as you know the pants rule also applies to you. That’s not just a Dean-specific rule.”

“Okay, enough about the pants,” Dean grumbles, trying to draw Cas out of the living room.

“So, when are you moving in?” Sam asks. “Because Jess and I would be happy to help.”

“Don’t volunteer me for moving duty,” Jess says, finally sitting up, looking thoroughly refreshed by her five minute nap. “I will volunteer for pizza and beer duty for the housewarming party, though.”

“I… we…” Cas looks nervously up at Dean, who just smiles back and squeezes his hand.

“We haven’t really worked out the details yet,” Dean says. “We’ll let you know.”

“Sure thing, guys,” Sam says, and then pulls Cas into an impromptu hug. “Welcome to the family, Castiel.”

“All right, all right, lay off him,” Dean says, pushing against his brother’s shoulder. “You’re gonna smother him.”

Sam releases Cas, and gloms on to Dean, who squeaks manfully at the sudden attack before hugging him back. Dean releases him after a few pats to the back, with a command that Sam get back to studying.

“Plus, me and Cas are getting outta here before you start the next movie. All that splashing around in the damn sewers is just unsanitary. Ugh.”

“For the hundredth time, they’re not sewers, Dean. It’s the Chamber of Secrets. It’s completely separate from the sewers.”

“It’s a fucking waterslide that starts in a bathroom, Sam. A bathroom. Ergo, sewers.”

Cas tugs at Dean’s sleeve. From Sam’s exasperation and Dean’s insistence, he knows this is an old argument that will probably never be settled. And Sam had brought up a good point. Not about Harry Potter-- Cas is too smart to chime in on that topic-- but about their plans.

“Dean, perhaps we should let Sam and Jess resume their studies,” Cas suggests. “I believe we have some important things of our own to discuss.”

Dean continues to glare at Sam, but Sam checks his watch and drops back down to the couch. He picks up the remote, grinning at Dean as he hits play, and Dean just heads back into the kitchen shaking his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bees?

It’s a seasonably nice afternoon for mid-October, and instead of stopping in the kitchen, Dean leads Cas straight through to the back door and out into the yard. They’re both barefoot, and the grass feels cool beneath their feet as the sun gently warms their shoulders.

Dean stops a few feet from the back porch, keeping Cas at his side as he turns half way around until the sun is at their backs, casting a shadow of the two of them against the neatly trimmed lawn. Their outlines look a little jagged against the grass, but Dean thinks it might be good enough for a pseudo-selfie, and suggests it to Cas.

“I don’t know, Dean. I’ve tried to keep my image off my blog, but I think we can do better than two indistinct, lumpy shadows.”

Cas releases Dean’s hand and sits down on the lawn, stretching his feet out in front of him and wiggling his toes. He smiles up at Dean and pats the ground beside him in invitation. Dean rolls his eyes, but can’t help the goofy grin on his face as he sits down, scooting himself right up next to Cas. He leans back on his hands while Cas gets out his phone, ready to snap a picture of their feet. Just as he lines up the shot, Dean captures Cas’s right foot between both of his own, throwing Cas off balance.

“You jostled the camera, Dean,” Cas says, showing him the blurry photo of their feet before deleting it and starting again. “Now hold still.”

Dean bites his lip to keep from laughing, but does as he’s told. The picture actually ends up looking kind of adorable, though Dean just grunts rather than admit it out loud. It shows only their jeans from the knee down with their feet tangled together in the grass and the bottom half of the overgrown rhododendron by the back door.

“Do you mind if I post this one?” Cas asks, looking from the picture on his phone and then down to where Dean’s absently rubbing the sole of one foot against the top of his own.

Dean catches him staring at their feet and rests his chin on Cas’s shoulder. “Nah, go ahead. I don’t think anyone’s gonna see my feet and go OH MY GOD THAT’S DEAN WINCHESTER! We have pretty generic looking toes, I’d guess.”

“You have very cute toes, Dean, but I suppose you’re right. If we are to remain incognito, then posting a picture of our feet should be safe enough.”

Dean snorts. “Incognito toes. Incognitoes.”

Cas shoots him a weird look, but goes back to writing a caption for the picture.

“What,” Dean says. “Incognitoes? C’mon, Cas. That’s funny.”

“Your mind works in strange ways, Dean.”

“Sure, Professor Fancy Words. You’re just pissed you didn’t say it first.”

Cas refuses to admit it, so instead he reads out the caption he’s written for their picture. “One selfie, as promised. Myself and the Fiance Anon, enjoying this lovely Saturday afternoon outdoors.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dean replies.

Cas taps the screen a few more times, and then stuffs the phone back in his pocket. He then leans back on his hands beside Dean with a more serious look on his face.

“I’m glad I have your brother’s apparently enthusiastic permission to move in, but…”

Dean cuts him off as a wave of panic shoots through him at Cas’s hesitant tone. “But nothing. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”

“No, Dean. Of course not,” Cas says, bumping his shoulder against Dean’s, and shifting so his free foot is clamped firmly atop the tangle of their legs. “There are some other hurdles to overcome, though.”

Dean processes that, and forces himself to calm down. He’s not being rejected. He’s not being rejected. He nods, and takes a deep breath, allowing Cas to continue.

“I will definitely need transportation to and from school, and at least once a week to the orchard to check on my bees.”

“You got it, Cas. Your car should be done by Thursday. Friday at the latest. Until then, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Cas hums, considering. “We should probably make a trip to the orchard today, then, since I missed my regular ride with Professor Cain this morning.”

“Can do. You wanna go right now?” Dean asks, pulling on his feet in an attempt to free them so he can stand up.

Cas reaches over and settles Dean down, resting his hand on Dean’s thigh. “Not just yet. There are a few other things we should consider first.” Cas just stares at his hand, mentally listing the practicalities that need to be handled before he can even think about moving.

Dean groans, but leans in and gives Cas a quick kiss. “You wanna elaborate?”

“Well, there is my apartment. I have a lease that runs through the end of December. I’ll have to call my landlord and see if it’s possible to break the lease earlier than that.”

“But that’s like two and a half _months_ from now, Cas!”

Cas huffs out a little laugh at Dean’s complaint. “We waited more than a year to properly introduce ourselves, Dean. Two and a half months is really not that long in comparison.”

“But that was before we started... seeing each other.” Dean retains enough of his wits to edit the end of that sentence, replacing the first few notions that run through his head with the more polite _seeing each other_ before speaking them aloud.

Cas seems to know what Dean’s really thinking, regardless of the words that actually come out of his mouth, and runs his hand slowly up Dean’s thigh. “I’m not saying it’s an obstacle, Dean, just something we need to consider. I may still have to pay rent, regardless of whether I continue to live there or not.”

Dean sucks a breath in between his teeth, trying to stay focused on Cas’s words, which he knows are important, rather than letting all of his brain cells zero in on Cas’s hand, and how warm it feels through his jeans, and how high on his thigh it’s currently resting. “None of that’s a problem, Cas. If they won’t let you out of your lease, we’ll just pay the last couple months’ rent.”

“That brings us to my next point. I’m paying about $700 a month right now. You offered your spare room for me to use as an office, and I’m not sure that’s still a fair price for so much additional space, since I’ve been paying that rate for a one bedroom apartment.”

Dean leans back, staring at Cas like he’d suddenly sprouted horns. “You’re my boyfriend, Cas, not some tenant. You are not gonna pay rent to share my bed.”

Cas’s eyes go wide, first at Dean’s use of the word _boyfriend_. It’s not a term either of them have used to define their relationship yet, despite the fact they’re discussing moving in together. In that light, it seems an obvious description, but somehow Dean just blurting it out like that does funny, squirmy things to Cas’s insides. But in a good way. At least, until he processes the second half of Dean’s objection.

“Of course not,” Cas sputters. “That’s not what I meant at all, Dean. It’s just that the university doesn’t pay TA’s the same way they do professors. They pay my rent and cover my tuition for my program. I get a small weekly stipend for meals and other expenses, but it’s in my contract that they are required to pay for my lodging. I have an allowance of up to $750 a month for rent, but they have to approve any changes to my residence.”

Dean grunts, slightly mollified. “So what, you think they won’t approve of you moving in with me?”

“No, Dean,” Cas sighs, rubbing his forehead and wondering where this conversation went wrong. “It’s just that as long as I’m living here,” Cas holds up a hand at the stormy look that takes over Dean’s face. “Just hear me out, please. This is important to me.”

“Fine,” Dean says, but Cas can still feel him trying to pull away.

“As long as I’m employed by the university as a TA I’m entitled to that money, but without a proper rental agreement, I forfeit any claim to it. I would like to contribute to the household in some meaningful way, but the only way I can is to claim you as my landlord.” Dean’s fury seems to fade as quickly as it came over him, but he’s still tense. Cas relaxes his hold a little bit to give Dean the space he suddenly seems to need. “At least on paper.”

“You gonna tell the school you’re renting out my old room?”

Cas hears a strange coolness in Dean’s voice, and hesitates. “I hadn’t thought… I suppose I could do that?”

Dean looks away, and rolls himself over, disentangling their feet and springing upright. “Fine. I guess I promised to drive you out to see your bees, huh? We should probably get going then.”

Cas sits in the grass, watching Dean leap up the steps and into the house without looking back. For the first time since they met, he’s pretty sure he missed some huge, important sign-- one that said ROAD CLOSED, or CAUTION BRIDGE OUT AHEAD-- and it feels like he just drove off the edge of a cliff. He wonders where the hell he went wrong.

Dean reappears in the doorway a minute later, wearing his boots and holding his car keys. “You coming, Cas?”

Cas just nods, and races past Dean to pick up his own shoes on his way out the front door. He doesn’t even bother to put them on until he’s sitting in the front seat of the Impala. He already feels like he’s somehow inconveniencing Dean enough by asking him for a ride, let alone making him wait while he ties his shoes. It’s a sickening feeling, especially coming right on the heels of the fluttery pounding in his chest unleashed by Dean referring to him as his boyfriend. It’s like all those butterflies have flown through a toxic gas cloud and suddenly dropped dead, settling into the pit of his stomach to rot.

Dean only speaks to ask for directions, and Cas only speaks to give them. It’s the longest twenty minute car ride Cas has ever taken, as the silence grows cooler between them.

It’s a relief when Dean stops the car at the orchard and Cas can finally jump out and walk away, yelling a terse, “I’ll just be a few minutes,” over his shoulder as he disappears between the trees. He’s not even sure if Dean could hear him over the rumbling engine, and he has one sudden flare of panic that Dean might decide to drive off and leave him there before he finally hears the Impala’s engine go silent.

 

Dean doesn’t bother to get out of the car. Cas was in enough of a hurry to get away from him that he couldn’t even wait for him to park properly before bolting off. Of course, Dean’s just doing what he always does in relationships. He clings on like a limpet and sucks all the joy out of his partner, until they finally pry themselves free of him. At least it happens sooner rather than later with Cas.

Cassie dragged him along for over a year, and Lisa only put up with his bullshit for eight months before calling it quits. Cas, and the entire week they’ve spent together before things started going sideways, is a new record. It only makes sense that Cas would want to put the brakes on their relationship. Dean’s not surprised at all that Cas would use phrases like _as long as I’m living here_ , because _of course_ Cas would assume this was just a convenient but temporary relationship. As soon as he earns his PhD, he’ll be out of there anyway. Dean’s never even bothered to ask what he plans to do once he’s done with school. He’s not even sure what someone _does_ with a degree in linguistics. He’s just positive it doesn’t include sticking around Lawrence, Kansas with a clingy, emotionally-stunted mechanic. He’s not sure whether to be grateful for this sudden revelation or fucking depressed, so he sits behind the wheel, staring into the trees, waiting for Cas to come back so he can drive him home and start to put this whole mess behind him. If that’s even possible.

 

There’s not much for Cas to do with his bees at this time of year. They’re not particularly active now that they’ve begun settling down for the winter, but he likes to check on them to make sure their food stores are holding up and their hive boxes haven’t been disturbed. He makes a cursory check of each of his boxes before leaning back against a nearby apple tree, plucking a few of the fruits that were likely the product of his bees’ springtime labors. He crunches into one of the apples, feeling the sweet tang of the juice roll across his tongue, and thinks back over the entire day, looking for the exact moment everything fell apart.

While he runs through the events of that morning, he absently pulls his phone out and takes a picture of the apple and the drips of juice trailing down his thumb, with the hibernating beehives in the background. He laughs bitterly as he writes up a short Tumblr post. It’s become such a habit for him now, updating the blog with insignificant little things that bring him a bit of happiness, in hopes that someone else will see what he sees and smile with him. Or, in this case, despite him. Below the picture of his apple, he adds a brief comment.

 _The final sweet reward of the season from my adopted family of bees._ He thinks about adding something else, but everything that comes to mind sounds bitter and angry in his head, especially when paired with his last few posts-- the ones he and Dean had written together just a few hours earlier.

He posts the picture, and notices he has several new messages in his inbox, probably regarding those last few happy posts. He doesn’t have the heart to read them right then, at least until he figures out what he said or did to upset Dean, because he _must_ have done something. It must be his fault, right? Maybe he overlooked something along the way. Cas will freely admit that while he can interpret language and symbols with a terrifying accuracy, he often misreads people. He’s spent most of his life buried in books, and his social skills have never been stellar.

Cas spends a few more minutes finishing his apple and glancing through his last few posts, hoping one of them will shake loose a clue to whatever has broken between them. He reads Dean’s question, and the answer he gave about never ignoring Dean, and wonders if he has somehow inadvertently made Dean feel as if he wasn’t paying attention to him now. But he has been paying attention, he’s sure of it. The picture of their feet entwined on the grass, Dean’s toes curled playfully around his foot, brings up a tiny sob he works to choke back down. How can something that brought him such joy an hour ago bring him such pain now? He throws the apple core out into the trees as hard as he can, and makes his way back to the car, still unsure of what’s happening, or what he can do to fix it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bees.

Dean’s staring absently out his window when he’s shaken from his thoughts by Cas’s return. Cas opens the passenger door, and hands Dean an apple as he climbs back into the car. Dean takes it, but he can’t seem to look up at Cas, and Cas can’t bear to look at him.

“What’s this for,” Dean asks.

Cas keeps his eyes glued to the orchard, out toward where his bees are. “A gift from the bees,” he tells Dean.

“Huh.” Dean’s unsure what to make of that. Is Cas offering him some sort of apology? But then, wouldn’t it be a gift from Cas, and not from a bunch of bugs? That thought makes Dean squirm just a little bit, but he sets the apple down on the seat next to him, and starts the car. If Cas is done for the day, then it’s probably time to go.

All at once, Dean’s not sure exactly where he should be going, though. He wishes he could just drop Cas off at his apartment so he could drive home and sulk alone, and maybe swim to the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Unfortunately, Cas planned to spend the whole weekend with Dean, and they left the house without collecting both Cas’s clothing and the satchel full of work he needs to get done by Monday morning. If it was just the clothes, Dean would drop them off some other time, but he’s sure Cas will need his laptop and the stack of folders filled with research notes and papers he’s supposed to review, especially if he’s not going to be preoccupied with Dean’s fucking delightful company. He shakes his head, throws the car back into park, and sets the brake, turning in his seat to finally face Cas.

The first thing he notices is that Cas looks as miserable as Dean feels. The man is slumped down in his seat, staring at his lap and picking at a fraying spot in the knee of his jeans. His brow is furrowed, and he looks as if he’s on the verge of tears. Dean wonders if he’s responsible for this, and for the first time in his sad and miserable life, he thinks he just might have jumped the gun in the wrong direction when it comes to a relationship. It’s entirely possible that he’s slamming a door shut on something wonderful, all because he’s too terrified to explain to Cas that he’s likely got a few abandonment issues. One glance at Cas’s face tells him that he’s probably not far of the mark. He sighs, and shuts off the engine.

 

Cas darts a quick glance over at Dean, but immediately returns his attention to the gradually expanding hole in his jeans. Cas is still running through their last real conversation, where he’d raised the subject of drawing up a rental agreement. He wants to pay his fair share of their expenses, and until he has his doctorate in hand and can formally apply for the associate professorship he’s been offered, signing his housing stipend over to Dean is the only way he can. It’s just a matter of practicality, but it seems to be the topic that had started them down this ugly road. If only he could understand _why_. They both try to speak at the same time, but Cas defers to Dean in the hope of getting an answer he can work with.

Dean sighs, resting one elbow on the seat back and rubbing his face. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, too, Dean,” Cas offers, tentatively looking up at Dean, but continuing to pick at his jeans. He can see that Dean’s struggling for something else to say, but when it comes right down to it, there’s really only one thing that Cas needs Dean to know. “I’m not sure what I said that upset you, but I’ve clearly upset you. I told you this afternoon that I would always answer you. I will never ignore you. But I think I might have already broken that promise. I don’t know what I did or said that upset you, but I’m sorry for whatever it was.”

Dean feels like his ribs are squeezing down around the hollow emptiness that had been growing in his chest. He is in the wrong, and he knows it, but fixing it means laying the whole sad mess of his life out on the table for Cas to pick through. He’s pretty sure that outlining every fuckup of his pathetic romantic history is enough on its own to drive Cas away, but at least one of them will be able to feel confident about the end of their relationship, and that’s more than he’s ever gotten before. Cas, at the very least, deserves to hear the truth, so he can decide once and for all that Dean’s not worth his time, or his apologies.

“I suck at relationships, Cas, and I should’ve told you that up front.”

Cas snorts. “I also seem to _suck at relationships_ , as you say.”

Dean shakes his head, partially at the fact that Cas had used actual finger quotes, and partially at the fact that Cas still feels responsible for any of the afternoon’s events.

“No, man, this one’s all on me. I know I told you I dated a couple of people before, but I never really told you about what happened. Why they left me; why they always leave me.” Dean can’t meet Cas’s eyes, but Cas knows enough about Dean’s history to imagine how hard it must be for him to talk about.

“Charlie told me about Cassie, and about Lisa. She even told me about Michael,” Cas tells him. It feels a little like breaking a confidence with Charlie, but if he can spare Dean having to repeat what must be painful memories, he feels like Charlie would understand.

Dean just shakes his head, still unable to meet Cas’s eyes. “She doesn’t know the whole story about any of them, though, but I can guess what she told you. Well, at least she knows most of what happened with Michael. I went out with him once near the end of Junior year, and the guy was a total creep. He called me all summer, refusing to take no for an answer when I told him I didn’t want to see him again. He backed off for a while when he found out I’d started going out with Cassie, but after my dad died, he assumed I’d change my mind. He asked me to prom, but I was already planning to go with Cassie. Once we graduated, his parents sent him on some kind of summer program abroad, and then he went straight off to college. I never saw him again, thank fuck.

“After graduation, I asked Cassie to move in with me. I was working full time at the garage, and taking business classes at the community college. I had a job, my house, and my future all right there in front of me, and it seemed like the logical thing to do. Looking back now, I know how crazy it was to even bring up the subject of settling down together so young, but at the time, it felt right.”

This next bit is the part Dean doesn’t even like to think about, let alone say out loud. He lets his hand drop to his lap, and then spots the apple lying squeezed between his thigh and the seat. He distracts himself for a minute by picking it up and rolling it back and forth between his hands.

Cas reaches one hand out toward Dean’s knee, but draws it back before letting it settle there. He’s still not sure where Dean’s story is going, or if he’d appreciate the distraction. Dean does notice, but just nods his head, accepting Cas’s attempt at comfort, or encouragement, or understanding for what it is without looking up yet.

“Cassie refused. She’d been accepted to a college somewhere in Ohio, and she didn’t want to throw away that opportunity to slum it with a selfish asshole like me.”

Cas was willing to give Dean space to talk, but he refused to listen to Dean put himself down. “You are not selfish, Dean. If she said that about you, then she doesn’t know you very well.”

“Heh. Says the guy who’s known me a whole week. And I notice you didn’t argue that I’m not an asshole.” Dean smirks, risking a quick glance up at Cas.

Cas shakes his head. “I’ve known you far longer than a week, Dean. You aren’t selfish, but I’ve seen you act like an ass. Though I usually tend to see it as more of an endearing trait, such as in the way you and Sam interact. It’s obvious you love one another, but the way you express it is sometimes… unconventional.”

Dean outright laughs at that. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. But that’s not what Cassie meant. I wanted her to stay with me, even if she was going away to school. I told her I’d wait for her, that I didn’t want to end things just because she’d be gone for most of the year. I wanted her to stay with me when she came home at Christmas, and I intended to visit her as often as I could. I didn’t want to lose her. Only, she didn’t see it that way.”

At the hitch in Dean’s voice, Cas does finally reach out and rest his hand on Dean’s knee. Dean stops tossing the apple back and forth, and lets his hand reach out toward Cas, sliding his fingertips across Cas’s knuckles, drawing strength to continue.

“She said I was just afraid that Michael would try to push back into my life if she wasn’t around anymore. She thought I wasn’t really serious about her at all, and told me I needed to grow up and and get over him already. The whole time we were dating, she thought I was only with her because I couldn’t accept the fact that I was gay, and had pushed Michael away because of it. She assumed that was why I’d always tried so hard to be the perfect boyfriend. God, the argument we had about that one.” Dean feels Cas’s hand clench down on his knee, but he doesn’t say anything, for which Dean’s grateful. He closes his eyes, and remembers shouting some pretty awful things at Cassie. He definitely deserved the asshole label that night. “She was gone, and it was all my fault. I pushed her away by trying to hold on to her.”

Dean takes a deep breath, and dives back in without waiting for Cas to comment. “I met Lisa in one of my classes a few months later. She was thinking about opening a yoga studio in town, and I mentioned I had a friend who could help her set up and manage her business website. She was so happy with Charlie’s work she wanted to thank me by taking me out to dinner. We hit it off, and started dating. Looking back on it now, I think she was more into the _idea_ of dating me, than she was into me, specifically.

“The last few months we were going out, my biggest project at work was with a local hot rod club, rebuilding a few classic cars they were using in demo races down at the drag strip before the main event. We were going out to the track every Friday and Saturday, equipped with all-access passes. We had a great time together, and I thought we were really getting serious. At one point, I considered asking her to marry me.”

Dean freezes, and realizes he’s grabbed on to Cas’s hand-- and not gently, either. Cas hasn’t said anything, though. He’s slowly running his thumb up and down the length of Dean’s, trying to be supportive.

“I’ve… I’ve never told anyone that before. Not even Lisa.”

“It’s okay, Dean. You can tell me anything,” Cas says, his voice threatening to betray the bottleneck of emotions building up within him.

Dean nods, still holding Cas’s hand, but not quite so painfully hard.

“Apparently Lisa developed a taste for the atmosphere at the track, and when I’d finished the last job for them and didn’t have a reason to keep going out there on weekends, she decided she wanted to keep going on her own. Knowing how much she seemed to enjoy racing, I got us tickets to the Indy 500, and I actually planned to propose to her at the track. I gave her the tickets for her birthday, and she was thrilled. Then she asked if I’d be okay if she took her sister to the race, since she lived near Indianapolis, and had always wanted to go, but had never had the opportunity. I told her I intended to go with her, and had already made all the arrangements. I’d planned to close down the garage for a few days so we could make a long weekend of it, a special surprise trip for just the two of us. That was the beginning of the end.

“She claimed she didn’t understand why I was so upset about her wanting to spend some time with her sister, and it didn’t seem worth it anymore to try and force a romantic weekend on her. Over the next few months, leading up to her trip to Indy, she started dodging my calls, and when I did get to speak with her, she claimed she was too busy to go out. I think she figured out something was up, that I’d had bigger plans for our trip than I’d let on, and she just didn’t know how to deal with that. Maybe she panicked, or maybe she’s just worse at relationships than I am. I don’t fucking know. So I let her go. When she came back from visiting her sister, she sold her shop and decided to move out to Indiana permanently. She’d never really intended to stay with me at all. Eight months, and it was all just a fun way to pass the time to her.”

“Oh, Dean.” What else could Cas say to all that? “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. But that’s it. That’s my history with relationships. I suck at them, but I try. I try so hard it just drives people away. And I thought I’d done it again today.”

“Why would you think that, Dean? I’ve been trying to understand what I said or did to lead you to believe that. Was it about the rent? Because I don’t even care about the money, if it is. I’d rather you have it, but not if it’s going to drive a wedge between us.”

Dean finally meets Cas’s eyes, and he’s crushed by the utter defeat he sees there. That he put there.  “It’s not about the money, Cas. Not really, anyway.”

“Then what is it, Dean? I can’t fix it if I don’t even know what the problem is.”

Dean huffs out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, and this is where I earn the asshole label.”

Cas cocks his head to the side, squinting hard at Dean, because he’s still mad that Dean would apply the term to himself, despite spending the last couple of hours suffering through the dictionary definition of asshole behavior. Dean almost prefers the glare to the wounded puppy look Cas had been sporting.

“You wanted to draw up a lease, and I panicked. I know you’re gonna be done with school in June, and I assumed you intended for the contract to end in June, too. When your TA job is done, you won’t need a lease anymore, and I just assumed you wouldn’t need to live with me anymore. I don’t even know what you’re planning to do once you have your degree, but I couldn’t face spending months falling in love with you only to have you leave. Because everyone eventually leaves me.”

“But why would you think that? I have no intention to leave you, Dean. I _want_ to be with you.”

Dean shrugs, looking over Cas’s shoulder and out into the orchard again. “It sounds stupid now.”

Cas reaches out with his free hand, and grabs Dean’s chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Tell me, Dean. I don’t ever want to have a misunderstanding like this again.”

“You wanted me to write up the contract saying you were renting my spare room.”

Cas blinks. “And? You offered it to me to use as an office. Having a second room under the terms of the lease would justify asking for the full allotment. I thought it was practical to add that to the paperwork.”

Dean just gapes at Cas. “So… you really do want to live _with me_ , and not just in the house. You’re not using the spare room so you don’t have to tell your coworkers about us?”

Cas stares at Dean for a full ten seconds, and then bursts out laughing.

“What? Stop that, Cas. You can’t laugh at me when I’m bearing my fucking soul to you here, man! You suck!”

“Dean,” Cas gasps out between rounds of breathless cackling. “Everyone at the university already knows about you. I’ve been talking about you for months. I told Professor Cain yesterday that you’d asked me to move in with you, and he was the one who suggested the lease arrangement.”

“What? But...then... Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“Because as soon as I brought up the subject, you shut down. I was trying to explain it to you, but you suddenly changed the subject and stormed off.”

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I just. I mean. Fuck, I don’t know what I mean. It’s just that every time I’ve ever gotten to this point with anyone, it ended. Badly. I guess I was expecting the bomb to drop.”

“I have no intention of dropping any bombs,” Cas says, leaning in and pulling Dean’s hand away from his face. “Well, aside from this one. You mentioned wondering what I plan to do when I’m finished with my degree?”

Dean nods hesitantly, staring back into Cas’s eyes from inches away.

“I thought I’d already told you. I know I told Charlie, and maybe I just assumed she would’ve said something to you about it.”

“What, Cas? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Professor Cain is retiring in June, and Professor Moseley is taking over the Department of Linguistics. They’ve both been so impressed with my work, and with my thesis, that I’ve already been nominated to fill the vacancy. I’ll be teaching full time beginning in September, as an associate professor.”

Dean took a moment to let that sink in. “So, you’re staying?”

Cas nods. “I am staying.”

“And you want to stay with me?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Even when I’m an asshole?”

Cas leans in and kisses him hard and quick. “Even then. Although I hope it’s not a frequent occurrence.”

“Damn,” Dean says. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do.”

“No, I really, really don’t,” Dean replies, but he closes the distance between them and stops any further protests with a kiss.

Cas, for once that afternoon, is pleased with the abrupt end to their conversation.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean and Cas get back to being cute and couple-y, which the author accidentally turns into smut. Oh, and there's still more bees, but only at the beginning. The bees do not participate in the smutty bits. Poor bees.

They spend the second half the afternoon out at the orchard. Most of that time is lost to a haze of kissing, which is occasionally interrupted with apologies and promises, which are then interrupted with more kissing. Cas refuses to let go of Dean until he’s confident that Dean’s no longer doubting himself or their relationship. He doesn’t know whether to be pleased or disappointed that it doesn’t take as long as he expected for Dean to come around. Cas holds on, luxuriating in the warm press of lips, the slow slide of tongues, and the sharp nip of teeth for as long as he can before Dean pulls back far enough to look into his eyes. It’s wonderful to see Dean’s heaviness and resignation wash away, revealing a delighted contentment that lights his face in a way that’s nearly painful to look at it’s so beautiful, and Cas can hardly believe he’s the cause of it.

Dean stares back, one hand curled around the back of Cas’s neck, his fingers winding gently through his hair. Like some strange feedback loop of happiness, just watching the smile grow on Cas’s face, he can’t help but respond in kind, until they’re both grinning like lunatics on the cusp of hysterics. He finally breaks their long silence as the sun sinks closer to the horizon.

“So, since we’re out here, do you think you could introduce me to your bees?”

The dam finally bursts, and Cas laughs. “There’s not much to see, Dean. It’s cold, and nearly dark. But if you’re interested in trudging through the trees, I’d be happy to walk with you.”

“Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

 

Cas leads Dean through the groves to the small clearing surrounding the three white hive boxes his bees call home. He stops next to the first box, but Dean continues on a few more steps before kneeling down and addressing the bees in a quiet voice.

“Thanks for the honey, guys. It made a good pie.” Dean smirks up at Cas and adds, “And a pretty decent cake, too. Cas brought me one of your apples, so thanks for that, also. I haven’t eaten it yet. I thought I might save it for later, since I’m thinking about taking Cas out for dinner now.”

Cas bemusedly watches the whole exchange, until Dean stands up and brushes the dirt from his knees. He walks over and takes Dean’s hand, and leads him back to the car as dusk settles in.

Now that they’ve hashed things out and made promises to never let a stupid misunderstanding come between them like that again, the closeness and comfort they’d shared in each other since the moment they met returns with a vengeance. Cas directs Dean to a diner not far from the orchard, and Dean drives with one hand on the wheel, because Cas refuses to let go of his other hand. Dean doesn’t mind one bit.

After a relaxing and enjoyable dinner, they head back to Dean’s house, which both Dean and Cas have started referring to simply as “home.” At one point, after a minute or two of contented silence, Cas blurts it out for no other reason than the thought of it makes him a little bit giddy.

“Home, Dean. We’re going _home_.”

Dean takes his eyes off the road long enough to flash the bemused look on his own face at Cas. “Yes we are.”

They spend the rest of the drive trying to get to the point where they can use the word “home” in a sentence while keeping a straight face. It doesn’t help that most of the ride is spent trying to incorporate it into absurd nicknames for each other. Dean kicks off the impromptu competition by asking if this makes Cas his homie. Homebody launches a five minute detour into territory that has Dean squirming uncomfortably in his seat. He begs Cas to change the subject until he’s not literally holding their lives in his hands where they’re gripped tight around the Impala’s steering wheel, and they’re freed up to better acquaint themselves with Cas’s home body.

Dean nearly loses it laughing and has to swerve violently back into their lane when Cas nods and dutifully agrees, with a deadpan, “Anything for you, homeslice.”

They pull into the driveway, and Dean immediately notices Sam’s car is gone. He’s a bit concerned for a moment, because he figured Sam and Jess would be hunkered down for a long weekend of their particular brand of weird-ass studying. As they get out of the car, Dean checks his phone to see if he missed any messages from his brother, but there’s nothing.

Cas sidles up next to him as he stares down at the phone, and threads one arm around Dean’s. “Is something wrong?”

Dean shoves his phone back in his pocket, and shakes his head. “Nah, just wondering where Sam went. Usually when the two of them get into movie marathon cram sessions, they don’t budge until they have to go back to class Monday morning.”

“Oh.” Cas furrows his brow. “Should we be concerned?”

Dean smiles, and slides his hand down Cas’s arm to lace their fingers together. “I don’t think so. It just means we’ve got the house to ourselves.”

“They could be back at any time, though,” Cas says, tugging on Dean’s hand to get him moving. “We should take advantage of the peace and quiet while we can.”

“Yeah, before they come home and start another Harry Potter movie. Wizard battles are loud as fuck, man.”

Dean’s got his key out when he reaches the door, but stops just before inserting it into the lock. He looks down at the silver bit of metal, worn and scratched from years of jangling around on his keychain, as if he’d never seen it before.

“I don’t think _Alohomora_ is going to get us inside, Dean.” Cas says after a moment. “Unless there’s something you’d like to share with me.”

Dean snaps out of his daze and unlocks the door, and then holds the key up between them. “I was just thinking I need to get you a key, is all.” He smiles at Cas, and pulls him in with one arm around his back for a quick kiss, while stuffing his keys into his jacket pocket. The strangest notion crosses his mind, and before he can talk himself out of this bit of idiocy, he bends down just far enough to get his free arm behind Cas’s knees, and scoops him up bridal style.

Cas lets out a high pitched yip, and clings to Dean’s neck like a koala. He’s substantially larger than the average bride, but Dean’s more than capable of supporting him, and he calms down and relaxes his choking grip when he realizes he’s not in imminent danger of being dropped ass-first to the ground. Cas finally leans back enough to admire Dean’s satisfied smirk.

“You think that was funny?”

Dean grins wider. “It was a little funny, but it was worth it.”

Cas finally breaks his gaze away from Dean’s long enough to glance up and down the street, feeling a little relieved that none of the neighbors were outside to witness his undignified squealing. “Are we going to stand here like this all night?” He narrows his eyes at Dean.

Dean realizes he’s still just standing there, staring at Cas, and his grin falls a little as his heart rate picks up, and he tries to explain himself. “I thought, since you’re now officially living here, I should carry you across the threshold the first time. I guess that sounds stupid, now that I’ve said it out loud.”

Dean moves to stand Cas back on his feet, but Cas tightens his grip around Dean’s neck again. “No, it’s not stupid at all, Dean. Even if I’m not _officially_ living here until we file the paperwork on Monday. You’ll just have to carry me in again.”

Dean groans, but he’s still smiling, still gazing in amazement at the man in his arms. He takes a single step forward and then remembers he unlocked the door but never got around to turning the knob and opening it.

“Uh, Cas? Little favor? Can you just… uh…” He tilts his head toward the doorknob, and twists around so Cas can reach it.

Cas bites his lip, trying to stop himself from laughing, but he can’t help it. He reaches for the knob and pushes the door open. Dean carries him in and kicks the door shut before leaning back against it, Cas still cradled in his arms. He should probably put him down now that they’re inside, because no matter how strong Dean might be, or how easily he’d picked Cas up, he’s starting to reach his limit and his muscles are beginning to protest. But he can’t let Cas get away with making fun of him for this.

Dean leans in and mashes their lips together. Cas makes a sound that is definitely not laughter, and enthusiastically returns the kiss. Without breaking apart, Dean releases Cas’s legs, and as soon as he’s found his feet, Dean spins them around and pins Cas to the door.

Cas’s arms are still wound around his neck, but now that his feet are back on solid ground, his hands are free to wander. He lets the fingers of one hand slide through Dean’s hair, while the other grasps at the back of his shirts, gathering the fabric and tugging it slowly up. It’s not even a conscious thought, that he’d rather run his hands over Dean’s skin than two layers of heavy cotton, it’s just that his hands can’t seem to help themselves. With Dean’s chest pressed hard against him, he’s not having much success, but it’s irrelevant, because he’s having a difficult time caring about anything beyond the way _Dean’s chest is pressed hard against him_.

One of Dean’s hands finds its way to Cas’s ass, and he can’t stop his hips from rolling against Dean’s. It’s Dean’s turn to groan, and he tilts his head back just enough to breathe, grinding his hips against Cas in response. Dean’s eyes look black in the dim light from the single lamp left on in the living room, his hair a wreck from Cas’s hands, panting to get enough air. He did that-- he reduced Dean to this debauched state-- and that thought drives Cas over the edge. He hitches one leg up around Dean’s thigh, and holds him tight. Cas tries to dive back in for another kiss. but Dean leans back just enough to stop him.

“Wait, wait.”

“No,” Cas replies, tugging on Dean’s neck to reel him back in.

“Yes, Cas. I do not want to end up naked and sweaty on the floor in the front hall just in time for Sam and Jess to get home. Just, no.”

“Nnngh.” Cas rests his forehead down on Dean’s shoulder, and releases his hold on Dean’s leg. “Then let’s get out of the front hall, because the naked and sweaty part sounds agreeable in every other respect.”

Dean laughs low and dark, reaching out to lock the front door before pulling Cas toward the stairs. He walks backward, refusing to completely let go of Cas until he trips up the first step and nearly falls backward. Cas steadies them both, capturing Dean’s lips for a few moments before Dean is able to shake him loose again.

He stares hard into Cas’s eyes. At this rate, they’re either going to kill themselves trying to get up the stairs, or they’re going to give up trying and start tearing each other’s clothes off right there. Neither of those options is acceptable, so Dean compromises. “I’m letting you go, but only until we get to the top of the stairs.”

Cas nods. “I can live with that.”

“That’s the idea,” Dean replies. He keeps one arm around Cas’s back, and the two of them practically fly to their bedroom.

As soon as the door is shut, Cas turns and slams Dean up against it, throwing himself against Dean and crashing their lips together. Dean’s got no objection to the proceedings, other than the fact that they’re both still fully dressed. Cas takes over the kiss, fully exploring Dean’s mouth before nipping and licking his way along his jaw. While Cas is focused on finding every spot on Dean’s skin that will draw out some new sound of pleasure, Dean retains control of just enough brain cells to work his hands under the hem of Cas’s shirt, drawing it slowly up while running his fingertips over every inch of Cas’s warm skin along the way.

Dean’s touches finally distract Cas from his mission long enough for him to pull back and raise his arms over his head. Dean obliges, lifting his shirt off and tossing it toward the laundry basket. Even that little act makes him giddy. Before Cas moves in and resumes his assault on his lips, Dean whips both of his own shirts over his head and flings them after Cas’s.

Now that at least some of their clothes are gone, Cas is about to pounce on Dean again, until he sees the strange distracted grin on Dean’s face. Instead of tackling him, he steps right up into his personal space and catches Dean’s attention with a hand to his cheek. “Is something wrong, Dean?”

“Hmm?” Dean meets Cas’s eyes. “You live here now. I just tossed your shirt in my laundry basket without even thinking twice.”

Cas just stares at him for a second, parsing out Dean’s words, before finding fault with one of them. “You mean _our_ laundry basket.”

Dean blinks, and then smiles wider. “You’re right, I do.”

Dean kicks off his boots, and then drops to his knees to pull Cas’s shoes and socks off. Cas yelps as he’s knocked off balance by the sudden change in direction of Dean’s attentions. He stops himself from falling over with one hand tangled in Dean’s hair and the other stretched out toward the nearest wall. He almost falls again when Dean springs up without warning, grinning like an idiot now while wadding their socks together and tossing them to land atop their shirts.

Cas reaches down to undo his own belt, pulling it from the loops and setting it on Dean’s dresser, followed by his wallet, keys, and phone. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer those items not be sent through the laundry.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dean replies, before emptying his own pockets and setting his belongings down next to Cas’s and then closing the distance between them once more. “Anything else you need me to know?”

Cas narrows his eyes in challenge. “Everything else I’m wearing is machine washable.”

Dean groans and takes that as the invitation it is, practically throwing Cas down on the bed. He kisses his way down Cas’s chest and stomach while his hands work to unfasten Cas’s jeans and slide them off. He flings them aside, and then quickly removes the rest of his own clothes. Cas slides his way up the bed, shimmying out of his underwear as Dean crawls up after him, stopping along the way to plant kisses on his ankles, knees, thighs and hips.

When Dean reaches the vee of Cas’s legs, he stops to catch his breath and meets Cas’s eyes. He’s lying back on a pillow, staring down at Dean with his lips parted, breathing just as heavily as Dean is. He’s so tempted to stretch himself out atop Cas, to feel every inch of Cas’s body beneath his own, and just rut against him. From his current vantage point, there’s an even quicker way to get his mouth on Cas. He gives Cas a quick wink, and then drops down and drags his tongue slowly over the head of Cas’s cock. Cas sucks in a surprised breath, but then groans and rolls his hips up and clutches at Dean’s hair.

Dean feels Cas writhe against him, and lets out a low rumbling laugh as he takes Cas into his mouth, knowing that the sound and feel of it drives Cas crazy. They’ve spent a lot of time over the last week learning each other’s bodies, but they’d always stopped short of taking that final plunge. Not that either of them were against the idea, but they had been busy pleasuring each other in every other way known to man. The next time Dean swallows him down, Cas arches his back off the bed and tugs at Dean’s hair.

“Dean, please,” he cries, pulling Dean up into a frantic kiss, and then panting into his mouth. “Please, I want to feel you inside me.”

Dean pushes himself up on his arms high enough that he can see Cas’s face clearly, and reads the intensity of his desire in his eyes. “Well, fuck.”

“Yes, please, Dean. Please.” Cas raises his hips, and wraps his legs around Dean’s back.

Dean leans down and kisses him, and Cas responds by tightening his grip around Dean with his arms and legs. When Dean tries to sit up again, Cas holds on even tighter, refusing to let him go.

“Cas, it’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. If we’re gonna do this, there’s a few things we need.” He points off to the side of the bed, and Cas blinks up at him before turning to see that Dean’s indicating the nightstand.

“Oh, of course,” he says, biting his lip and turning away as he releases Dean to retrieve the necessary supplies.

Dean returns just a few seconds later with a condom and a bottle of lube, and sets them down on the bed by Cas’s hip, before settling himself back between Cas’s thighs. Cas picks up the condom and glares at it, before turning the look on Dean.

“Do we really need this?”

Since they’d wound up in bed together within hours of first meeting each other in person, they’d already been over the fact that they’re both clean. It had seemed an important topic to broach, since they’d barely gone a day since then without things turning sexual, and neither of them have been averse to foregoing condoms for anything else they’ve done.

Dean stares at Cas’s intent expression, and then shrugs. “It’s up to you. I just thought you should have the choice.”

Cas watches Dean for any sign that he’s uncomfortable, and then tosses the condom off the bed.

Dean swallows, and nods. “Good choice.”

He retrieves the lube, squeezing out more than he needs, rubbing it into his fingers to warm it up. “You tell me if I need to stop, okay?” He squeezes Cas’s hip, and waits for him to nod.

He goes slowly, soothing any sting Cas may feel by licking and kissing his way across Cas’s hips. When Cas is writhing beneath him and begging him for more, Dean finally feels he’s ready. He draws his fingers out as Cas whines in protest. Dean leans over and kisses the words out of Cas’s mouth before pulling back to drizzle more lube into his hand and slick himself up.

“Ready?” Dean asks, settling himself down between Cas’s raised knees and leaning down on one elbow.

Cas grabs him by the back of the neck and pulls him down for a hungry kiss. “Ungh, yes.”

Dean lines himself up and begins to push in slowly, careful not to hurt his lover, but also savoring the feeling of being swallowed into Cas’s tight heat inch by inch. After the initial burn has passed, Cas bucks his hips in a demand for more.  It’s an overwhelming cascade of sensations, with Cas anchoring him in place, their faces locked inches apart by Cas’s grip around his neck and shoulders. Dean has to fight his own body’s desire to thrust in all at once and be done with it, and the simultaneous desire to never move again.

There’s a moment where Dean almost forgets what he’s doing entirely, lost to the sensations of being fully enveloped by Cas as his legs wrap around him once again and he nearly drowns in Cas’s eyes. Cas stares up at him, basking in the look of wonder on Dean’s face. “Please move now, Dean.”

Dean pulls out slowly, but then Cas slams him back in, his powerful legs pulling Dean’s entire body down against him as his hips rise to meet him. A look of surprise crosses Dean’s face, but then he grins down at Cas.

“So that’s how you want it?”

Cas loosens his grip with his legs, and then constricts them again. “Yes, Dean. You promised me naked and sweaty.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Dean pulls out, and slides back in. He rocks his hips teasingly slow until he hits Cas’s prostate, and Cas screams and arches off the bed. Dean surrenders every last thread of his control and gives Cas exactly what he asked for.

Cas holds him tight, one arm around his neck pinning Dean in place so that every one of his thrusts also squeezes Cas’s erection between their stomachs. Between that delicious friction and Dean’s relentless assault on his prostate, Cas is rocketing toward the edge.

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” Cas lets his hand slide from Dean’s neck down to his shoulder, gripping hard into the muscle. He tries to hold Dean’s gaze, to burn the image of Dean staring down at him in ecstasy and awe into his brain, but it’s too much. He can barely process the full beauty of it, like trying to admire a magnesium flare from six inches away. Cas’s vision finally fails him, and the world blurs out into a soft haze as he comes between them. He hears Dean gasp out his name as his hips stutter, and feels the flood of warmth as Dean comes deep inside him, followed by the soft press of Dean’s lips against his neck.

Their breathing evens out and their hearts have stopped racing when Dean finally pushes himself up off Cas’s chest. The way Cas is lying there, eyes closed with a wide, satisfied smile, lazily dragging one hand up and down Dean’s arm, reminds Dean of a satisfied cat.

“You doing okay?”

“That’s one word for it, I suppose.” Cas blinks one eye open and smirks up at Dean.

Dean leans down and kisses the smirk off his lips. “I hope all the fancy words you got runnin’ through your head all mean something better than ‘okay.’”

“Definitely better than okay. Magnificent. Sensational. Phenomenal. Extraordinary. Stupendous.”

Dean melts under the praise, and feeling his cheeks turn pink, he ducks down to shut Cas up with a kiss. “Awesome.”

“That too,” Cas teases, and holds him close for another kiss.

Dean’s still trapped by Cas’s legs, but they’re starting to stick together and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable. Cas finally releases him, and he heads to the bathroom to fetch a towel to clean them up. He doesn’t expect Cas to follow him, and jumps when he looks up from wringing out a washcloth in the sink to see Cas over his shoulder in the mirror, standing directly behind him. Cas grins at Dean’s half-hearted attempt at a glare.

“You trying to give me a heart attack, Cas?”

“Of course not.” Cas takes a single step, and slides up against Dean’s side, one hand wound around his waist. “I should’ve known your heart was already overtaxed. I apologize.”

Dean just stares at their reflection and shakes his head. He knows Cas is still teasing him in that inscrutable way of his, and god does he love it. He is completely in love with this snarky, brilliant, gorgeous little shit of a man. If he’s not careful, the dangerous tumble of emotions in his chest could still trigger that heart attack. So of course Dean expresses himself in the most articulate manner he can muster amid the roil of adoration storming through him.

“Huh.”

Cas snorts out a laugh, and grabs the damp towel out of Dean’s hand. He begins cleaning them both off, while Dean just stands there, watching him work. When Cas is finished, he drops the towel to the floor and smiles up at Dean.

Dean stares back, his hands twitching at his sides, until he can’t take it anymore. He reaches out for Cas and hugs him close, whispering a litany of the incoherent nonsense he just can’t seem to fight down anymore. _God I love you so much what did I ever do to deserve you please never leave me even when I’m an ass please you have to stay because I love you and your bees and the way you talk and your dumb blog and damn I’ve never been so happy in my life how are you even real_

Cas, for the most part, listens. He stands there running soothing hands up and down Dean’s back, his face hidden against Dean’s neck, mumbling out his own _I love you too Dean it’s okay I’ll stay I’m happy too this is real Dean this is all real it’s okay I love you too_

They eventually work their way back to bed, lying snuggled together under the blankets, whispering their secrets until they fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Dean finally gets over himself, indulges in about ten tons of fluff, and General Adorableness threatens to give the reader diabetes.

Sunday morning, Dean’s up early, but he’s feeling more rested than he has in years. He credits it entirely to the man still sleeping in his bed. Dean doesn’t really want move, and stays curled in Cas’s clingy octopus hold until nature demands he get up. He squirms free of Cas’s arms without waking him, and carefully tucks him back in.

If ever there was a day that demanded wearing the Dead Guy Robe, today is that day. He slips on a pair of boxers, and wraps the heavy lined silk robe around his shoulders, making sure to tie the belt firmly while rolling his eyes. It would be just his luck that the Decency Police would be up and about before dawn on a Sunday morning.

With one last glance at his sleeping boyfriend, Dean quietly slips out of their room and heads down to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He can wait for Cas to get up before making breakfast, but coffee waits for no man. While the coffee brews, he grabs his laptop and heads out to the couch. Might as well take advantage of his own living room before the zombies take over with their books and notes again.

His computer’s booting up when he spots a single sheet of paper on the coffee table, and wonders if Sam accidentally left a page of his notes behind. He picks it up just to be sure, and finds it’s actually a note to him, from Sam.

 

_Dear Dean,_

_You and Cas left in kind of a rush, and I hope everything’s okay. If we were in your way, you should’ve just said something. It’s your house too, and now that Cas is going to be living here, you can tell us to just get out, or whatever. If you need your own space, since this is kinda your own space, you know?_

_We’ll be at Jess’s apartment if you need anything. I guess I’ll see you Monday night for dinner. Just, maybe, call when you get a chance and let me know everything’s okay._

_Sam_

 

Well. That explains where Sam went. Dean’s relieved that Sam didn’t witness his complete flip-out on Cas, but he groans at the idea that Sam thought he could ever be in the way. Well, cockblocking early morning door knocking aside.

He sends a quick text to reassure Sam that he’s fine, that they’re all fine, and they just went out to check on Cas’s bees. Everything else that happened while they were out is now irrelevant, and he definitely never wants to speak of it again. Like, ever. He does add the entirely unnecessary comment that he’s glad Sam and Jess were gone when they got home, since it meant they were spared the unplanned x-rated floor show in the front hall.

Yep. Everything’s back to normal.

Dean logs into tumblr, and then strolls back into the kitchen for coffee while the page loads. Other than helping Cas answer his anons, he hasn’t really been on the site in a couple of days. He’s interested to see if anyone’s commented on their post yet, so he navigates straight over to Cas’s blog.

He’s surprised when the first post at the top of the page is one he hasn’t seen. It’s just a picture of Cas’s hand holding an apple with a couple of bites in it, and a short comment at the bottom thanking his bees. Of course there was no mention of the Fiance Anon, even though it was the type of post Cas usually tagged him in. He knows Cas must have taken the picture the day before, standing alone and hurt and confused out in the orchard while Dean sat in the car being an idiot. And then Dean remembers that, despite how awful he must’ve been feeling at the time, Cas had brought him an apple, too. Suddenly, it’s all he can think about.

He tiptoes up the stairs and retrieves his keys from the dresser. Cas is still sound asleep, and Dean resists the temptation to crawl back into bed with him. He’s on a mission now, and he can’t let himself get distracted, even though everything in him longs to curl his body around Cas and stay there until he manages to deliver the entirety of his apology via osmosis directly into Cas’s skin. So, essentially forever.

When he reaches the front door, Dean peeks outside checking for nosy neighbors before dashing to the Impala and retrieving the apple he’d left forgotten on the front seat the night before. He’s been a little distracted, okay? One final scan to make sure no one caught him sneaking around his own front yard in barely more than a bathrobe, and he’s back at the computer, Cas’s apple in hand.

Dean gets comfortable, stretching his legs out on the coffee table, and takes a bite of the apple. It’s just as delicious and sweet as Cas promised, and he sends another silent thank you out to the bees, before deciding he could do one better than that. He grabs his phone and composes a photo, the apple held firmly in his hand, with his bare feet peeking out from beneath his Dead Guy Robe in the background. Dean laughs at that, wondering if his feet will somehow become his signature identifying feature after this. Some celebrities are instantly recognizable by their eyes, or their smiles, or even their distinctive noses, but not Dean. Nope, he’s gonna be internet famous as a pair of feet. At least Cas thinks his toes are cute, the adorable weirdo.

He submits the photo to Cas, the caption reading, “ _Now I know why you thank your bees. They do good work. You do, too, Bumblebee. Hopefully it’s obvious without me having to point it out, but this is from the Fiance Anon_.”

That done, he scrolls down to the next post, which is of course the one of their feet twined together out on the back lawn. He clicks through to see the notes, and is stunned that the silly picture has been liked, reblogged, and commented on nearly a thousand times.

He scrolls through some of the comments while he finishes the apple. Most of them are of the “Awww, isn’t that adorable?” or “I hope I find my own Fiance Anon someday,” variety. Then he sees one from Charlie, which says, “Aw, you guys are my OTP. You need a ship name. I suggest Beeance. You know, like fiance. But with bees.”

Dean grins at that, reminded of his family’s whole ridiculous plan to get them together, complete with secret code names and undercover missions. If they weren’t all too busy with their day jobs, he’s pretty sure they’d make a crack team of CIA spies. Or criminals. The nerds.

He’s just about to open the third post on Cas’s page, their relationship FAQ post, when Cas wanders down the stairs rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old Metallica t-shirts and a pair of sweats. His hair’s mashed flat on one side, and overcompensating for that by sticking out in every possible direction on the other, as if half of him got struck by lightning. As soon as he sees Dean, Cas’s whole face lights up. He heads straight for the couch and plops down almost in Dean’s lap, leaning in for a warm good morning kiss.

“Sleep okay?” Dean asks, resting his forehead against Cas’s.

 _“_ Yes, Dean. Your bed is very comfortable.”

“Our bed, Cas.”

Cas grins and nods. “In that case, I see we have coffee.” He snatches the mug off the table and takes a sip. “Our coffee needs a little sugar.”

Dean shakes his head and plucks the mug out of Cas’s hands. “ _My_ coffee is perfect. _Your_ coffee is in the kitchen. You can ruin it with as much sugar as you want.”

“Some partner you’re turning out to be,” Cas calls over his shoulder as he heads into the kitchen to ruin his coffee.

“Hey, I made enough for you, too. We don’t have to share everything, you know. I’d also like to claim sole ownership of my toothbrush, while we’re at it.”

Cas returns to the couch a moment later with a full mug of his own, and settles back beside Dean. He watches Dean click over to the FAQ post. They read a few of the notes together, before Cas suggests they check on his inbox to see if they have any additional questions to answer. It’s easier than scrolling through on Dean’s blog, only to have to repeat the same exercise again so Cas can post replies.

Dean surrenders the laptop to Cas, and a moment later Cas clicks on his inbox, which has fifty three new messages. Cas dives in, answering them all with Dean’s help. The first is actually from Gabriel, thanking them for the recipe. He made the honey pecan pie the night before, and ate three slices of it for breakfast, it was so good.

“Quitter,” Dean grumbles, when Cas laughs at his brother’s gluttony for sweets. “He could’ve gone for an even half if he had one more slice.”

“Should I be concerned about your diet, Dean?” Cas rubs Dean’s stomach and side-eyes him while giving him a little pinch.

Dean rolls his eyes. “I spend like ten hours a day moving around the garage and lifting heavy shit. My diet’s fine.”

Cas leaves him be, and moves on to the next message. It’s Dean’s apple submission. As he reads it, Cas leans into Dean and rests his head on his shoulder, before stretching out his legs next to Dean’s.

“I’m tempted to post this and add a picture of our feet just like this, but I’m not sure that would be appropriate yet.”

Dean grunts, but picks up his phone and snaps a picture anyway. “Just for our records, then.”

Cas does add a comment at the bottom of the post. “No, thank _you_ , Fiance Anon. This makes me very happy. The bees will be pleased, as well.” And then he posts it.

The majority of the rest of the messages are a smattering of congratulations, some assorted incoherent squeeing, and a variety of well wishes and pleas to be kept informed of future developments. Most of them are handled the same way their FAQ post was, with a single post thanking everyone for their support. There are, however, a few messages they find frankly disturbing.

The first such message is from a homophobic troll, and Cas blocks the anonymous user, deletes the message, and moves on. Dean’s outraged by it, and Cas is a little shaken, but he’s not new to anon hate. “This is the sort of person who drove me to turn off my anon last year. They turn up once in while. It’s the one downside of allowing anonymous messages. I’ve discovered the perks firmly outweigh the trolls. There will always be assbutts on the internet, Dean. You just have to ignore them.”

Dean simmers down and takes a slow breath. “You’re right. It sucks, but you’re right.”

The next unsettling message is signed “Fiance Anon” even though Dean clearly did not write it. It’s filled with disgusting suggestions, and Cas immediately blocks the user.  Dean just sits there staring, open-mouthed, at the screen.

“Wow, that was sick. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Yes, that one was particularly distasteful,” Cas agrees, grinding his teeth together.

“Does that happen a lot? I mean, perverts pretending to be me? Because I’m fine with staying on anon, but not if there’s a bunch of sick fuckers sending you shit like that pretending to be me.”

Cas shrugs. “It has happened once or twice before, but I believe it is the same person each time. Their comments are all similar, but it seems they are escalating now.”

“Probably because they know you’ll never accidentally post one of their messages thinking it’s from me, now that we’re together in real life. Son of a bitch is just a sore fucking loser.”

Cas just sighs and moves on. “You’re probably right.”

Cas spends a few minutes on his dash reblogging a couple of interesting posts, and then logs out. He eyeballs his satchel, still resting on the floor by the front door, and hands Dean’s laptop back to him before getting up to retrieve his work.

“If it’s okay with you, Dean, I do have some research I need to get done today.”

“Mi casa is su casa, Cas. Like, literally.”

Cas fights down his grin and begins setting up his own laptop and his folders of research on the table. “Literally, it would be mi casa es tu casa, but I see your point.”

“Nitpicker. You want some breakfast?” Dean claps his hand down on Cas’s knee, and scoots to the edge of the couch.

Without looking up from his laptop, Cas hands Dean his empty mug. “And more coffee, with lots of sugar, please.”

Dean takes it, then leans down and kisses the top of Cas’s head. “Coming right up.”

 

Half an hour later, they’re finishing up the omelettes and bacon Dean made (with the yolks and a ton of cheese, because Sam’s spinach and egg white omelettes are an abomination).  Cas stands up to clear the table, and carefully brings up the subject of the official lease agreement they need to compose. Without reminiscing about the angst the same request had caused the day before, Dean agrees to write something up.

It takes an hour or so for Dean to compose a document that looks pretty damn official, in his opinion. He’s paged through enough of Sam’s law books in fits of boredom (hey, he reads) to have picked up a feel for the jargon. He makes it a one year lease agreement, with a move in date of January 1, because Cas’s old lease isn’t due to end until then. When he’s satisfied that it’ll hold its own as a legal document, he interrupts Cas’s work to let him read it over before printing it out. Cas has only one objection.

“It won’t do any harm to set the start date as November 1, Dean. I’m going to talk to my landlord first thing in the morning, to see if it’s possible to break my lease two months early. And either way, the university won’t begin paying you until I provide them with a document breaking my old lease.”

“If you’re sure,” Dean says unsurely, but he makes the change anyway.

His day is improved about 9000% when he prints it out, and he and Cas both sign at the bottom of the page. It’s tangible, concrete, legally binding proof that Cas wants to stay with him. Cas is kind enough not to tease him about sitting at the table for ten minutes just smiling down at the paper.

Dean spends the rest of the morning happily bustling around the house, doing laundry and assorted other chores. He never thought washing and folding clothes could bring a stupid grin to his face, but he’d never imagined himself stacking Cas’s clean clothes alongside his own and carrying them upstairs to their room.

He spends a good chunk of time reorganizing his closet and drawers to make room for the rest of Cas’s stuff, before heading into his childhood bedroom. The only furniture in there is his old double bed, a chest of drawers he mostly uses to store old concert t-shirts, souvenirs, and the bits and pieces he’s picked up throughout his life that he just can’t part with, and his old desk. He’d considered making the room into a home office before, but he’d rather work in the kitchen or on the couch anyway, and he’d long ago decided it was fine to just keep calling it the guest room. Since it was specifically detailed in the lease document, he feels obligated to at least clear out the desk for Cas to use if he wants to.

He’s finally dressed in normal clothes when he wanders downstairs to ask Cas if he wants to take a break for lunch. Dean makes them sandwiches, and then tells Cas he can start moving the rest of his stuff over whenever he’s ready. After they eat, he shows Cas around his new office, which he nods politely about, and then hauls him back into their room and dramatically pulls out the drawer containing Cas’s laundered clothes.

“I believe I’ll require more space than that,” he says, to Dean’s melodramatic dismay.

“You have half the dresser, and look,” he runs over to the large walk-in closet and points out the empty half.

“Well, then, I believe I’ll require more clothes.”

Dean chuckles and pats him on the shoulder. “I can take you shopping if you want.”

“No, I think I’ll just keep borrowing your clothes,” Cas says, picking at the front of his t-shirt. “They are very comfortable.”

Dean stares at him, nodding blankly. He knows Cas needs to get back to work, but the reminder that _Cas is wearing his clothes_ is almost more than he can resist. Cas grins at him, and gently pats his cheek, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“Is the tour over? Because I’ve got a few more pages to work out today, and I’d hoped to get it done before dinner so we can enjoy our evening together.”

Dean snaps out of his reverie and clears his throat. “Yeah. I was gonna head over to the garage for a few hours. The Bel Air’s seats are gonna be ready tomorrow, and if I go in now, I can get a head start on prepping her for paint. Might even be done by Tuesday.”

Cas blinks, surprised. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be done until Friday?”

Dean shrugs. “The upholsterer finished quicker than I expected.”

The corners of his mouth droop a little at the thought of leaving Cas, even for a few hours. But with Cas busy finishing his work, Dean would only be puttering around the house driving himself nuts, desperately trying to resist distracting Cas from his research. Still, he’s torn about just leaving him home alone.

“You sure you don’t mind if I go?”

“Of course not, Dean.” Cas smiles, and stands up to give Dean a hug. “You do what you need to. I’ll be done in a few hours.”

Dean’s still not a hundred percent sure he wants to leave, but Cas stretches up and kisses him on the tip of his nose, and Dean can’t help laughing at that. “You’re a huge dork, you know that?”

Cas just shrugs, so Dean leans in to give him a proper kiss. “I’ll be back around eight with dinner, then.”

“I’ll be here waiting for you.”

Something about the way Cas says that, like it’s a solemn promise, sends a shiver through Dean’s entire body. “You do that.” He replies, and extricates himself from Cas’s hold before he changes his mind and drags Cas back to their room for the rest of the afternoon.

 

That night over pizza, Cas recounts the breakthrough he’s made on his thesis. Dean shares the work he completed, and lists the few things he has left to do before Cas’s Bel Air is road worthy. The general excitement level in the kitchen is nearly unbearable. Dean’s not sure if it’s their combined sense of accomplishment, the giddiness over finally feeling settled in their relationship, or the key currently burning a hole in his pocket. He patiently waits for just the right moment to bring that up, though. It comes almost before he’s ready for it.

Cas shoves the box containing the last few uneaten slices of pizza into the fridge, and then turns around to find Dean nervously standing by the sink, hands crammed into his pockets, staring down in the vicinity of Cas’s knees. He freezes, concerned about this sudden shift from boisterous and enthusiastic Dean to somber and uncertain Dean. He’s about to ask if something’s wrong, when Dean takes a deep breath and looks up at Cas through his eyelashes, a small smile on his face.

“I stopped and had this made on the way home.”

Dean takes the two steps between them and draws his hand out of his pocket, holding his closed fist out to Cas. Cas glances down at Dean’s hand, then back to his face, still perplexed by Dean’s uncharacteristically shy demeanor.

“Go on,” Dean says, waggling his fist at Cas’s chest.

Cas tilts his head curiously, but holds out his hand. Dean smiles and opens his fist, letting a small collection of metal jangle into Cas’s palm.

“It’s just the key to the house for now, but I found that keychain, and it seemed perfect.” The keychain in question is an exact scale replica of Cas’s ‘55 Bel Air, painted black with yellow flames licking along the hood. “I’m gonna paint the full-sized version solid black, but figured you wouldn’t mind a flashier paint job on the keychain.”

Cas turns the tiny car over in his hands, admiring the detail, before moving on to the key. “Thank you, Dean.” He holds the key in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the sharp edges of freshly cut metal, and grins up at Dean.

Dean leans in and gave him a kiss, and then takes his hand and leads Cas out to the couch. “So, have you thought about when you’re gonna move in officially?”

“Hmmm.” Cas sits down next to Dean, curling his legs up underneath himself and resting against Dean’s shoulder. “If you have time, could you drop me at my old apartment in the morning? My first class isn’t until ten, and I need to talk to my landlord. I thought I could spend the rest of the morning packing, and then we could start bringing things over tomorrow night, if that's convenient for you.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Dean turns in his seat, pulling Cas into his lap for a kiss. “I actually had another plan for tonight.”

Cas slides a hand up Dean’s chest and around his neck, running his thumb back and forth along the tender skin behind his ear. He rubs his cheek against Dean’s, enjoying Dean’s shiver as their two-day-old scruff scratches together. His voice comes out quiet and rumbling, straight into Dean’s ear.  “I hope your plan doesn’t involve leaving the house.”

“No,” Dean croaks out, and then clears his throat. “No, I just figured it was your turn tonight.”

“My turn?”

Cas continues to kiss his way down Dean’s neck, until Dean groans and shifts Cas’s weight in his lap so he can grind his rapidly hardening erection against Cas’s hip. “Yeah, your turn to top.”

Cas draws away from the spot he’d been focused on just above Dean’s collarbone, and smirks up at Dean. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

Dean shrugs. “It seems fair. I mean, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, no. I agree, it seems like a perfectly egalitarian arrangement.”

“You and your damn fancy words, Cas.”

Dean grabs him tight and holds him close for another kiss, before all but dumping Cas on the floor as he bolts to his feet. He steadies a rather dazed-looking Cas, and they spend a good long while just staring into each other’s eyes catching their breath. Cas breaks first, the tiniest of smiles twitching at one corner of his mouth before he takes off running for the stairs. Dean blinks, gobsmacked, before his body catches up with his brain, racing after Cas, shouting a warning to his boyfriend not to start without him.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Cas finally gets over himself, becomes one with a 1955 Chevrolet Bel Air, and realizes life doesn't get better than this.

Cas gets up ridiculously early Monday morning. Dean tries to let him sleep in, but Cas won’t hear it. They won’t see each other again until his last class lets out at six, and Cas wants to spend as much time with Dean as he can. He grumbles something about having grown accustomed to Dean’s presence over the weekend as he drags himself out from beneath their warm blankets. Dean rewards his fortitude with a lazy, soapy handjob in the shower.

He’s got a couple of hours to kill waiting for the apartment’s office to open for business when Dean drops him off just before seven, but he keeps himself occupied with the daunting task of packing up everything he’s managed to accumulate over the last two years. He’d left Chicago with three large suitcases, two boxes of books, and a potted fern given to him by his brother, Gabriel. The fern hadn’t survived its first month, dead of the sort of neglect only a frazzled and overworked doctoral candidate can provide.

His apartment had come furnished, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about moving anything they’d need to rent a truck to handle. Just taking stock of the overstuffed bookshelves in his living room, he estimates he could fill the Impala’s spacious trunk a dozen times over, but if they make a couple of trips a day over the next week or two, he stands a fair chance of having his apartment emptied by the first of November. He hopes.

It doesn’t take him long to clear out his dresser and closet, shoving all his clothes into the same three suitcases he’d arrived with. He sets them by the front door, and then goes back to strip the bed and clear out the linen closet and the cupboard in the bathroom. He carefully packs everything into two large boxes that Dean had given him, salvaged from the recycling bin at his garage. By the time he tapes the second box shut, the rental office is open, and it’s time for him to put on his game face.

He’s surprised to learn that he doesn’t even need his game face. Apparently the building has a waiting list of students either itching to move out of the dorms to live off campus where they can enjoy a little more freedom, or students already living off campus but itching to live close enough to walk to class instead of having to deal with the overcrowded student parking lots when they’re running late. Cas quickly realizes it’s a mixed blessing, as soon as he returns to his barely packed apartment and contemplates how many more boxes he’ll need to find to get all his books packed up and moved in the next ten days.

His classes rush by in a blur, only slowing down during his extended office hours, where he meets with students who are cracking under the pressure of midterms. He staves off several nervous breakdowns, and averts one student’s minor apocalypse by providing her with an extra copy of the textbook she inexplicably misplaced. He’s able to get a substantial amount of work done on his own thesis, his only responsibility during his first class of the day being to collect exam booklets as the students complete them and hand them in.

He spends his next three classes proctoring exams while trying to stay ahead of the rapidly growing pile of paperwork he’ll be responsible for over the next week. He’s just started feeling accomplished about having worked his way through the first stack of essays when he realizes he has three more stacks just like it, and he was supposed to meet Dean in the parking lot five minutes ago.

Cas groans and bundles the stacks of paper together, shoving them into the tote bag he brought along for the purpose and dropping the first batch of exams in Professor Moseley’s office on his way out of the building. He rolls his shoulders as he makes his way down the stairs, and pushes through the exit door to suck in his first breath of fresh autumn air after eight hours cooped up in a lecture hall that had started to reek of panic sweat and desperation. The first sight he’s greeted with nearly stops his breath altogether.

Dean’s right out front of the language building, parked in the tow away zone, blithely leaning against the front bumper of his Impala and poking at his phone. Cas instantly feels the weight of his day lift off his shoulders. Even the heavy bag of essays can’t drag him down with Dean standing right there, and he picks up his pace, all his other worries pushed aside with the promise of spending the evening with Dean.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” Dean shoves his phone in his pocket and pushes off the car, reaching for Cas’s bag. “Long day?”

Cas rolls his eyes and kisses Dean on the cheek. “Understatement.”

“Aww. We’ll get you home, get some dinner, and you can tell me all about it, yeah?”

They swing by Cas’s apartment first, filling the trunk and back seat of the Impala, but Cas is pleased by the progress. Dean is even more pleased that Cas was able to get out of his lease so easily. They work out a plan for Cas to spend the mornings at the apartment packing up, and evenings at Dean’s unpacking.

It gets easier when Dean adds the keys to the Bel Air to Cas’s new keychain on Tuesday night. When he picks Cas up with his first trunkload of books, he stops by the garage on their way home. The Bel Air is sitting out in the parking lot behind the building, where Charlie had been by earlier to photograph it for the shop’s blog. He’d been concerned about posting detailed photos of Cas’s car on Tumblr, but Cas insisted he was fine with it. The post had gone up that afternoon. Dean’s already responded to several people who asked to be put in touch with the car’s owner, hoping they’d consider selling it for the right price. Each time Dean had responded with a polite but firm refusal. The car had been specifically built for Cas, and even Dean feels a little weird about driving her.

Dean parks the Impala out front, and leads Cas by the hand around the building to the back lot. His other hand covers Cas’s eyes until they’re in position for the big reveal.

“So, what do you think?” He asks, dropping his hand and studying Cas’s face for his reaction.

Cas does not disappoint. His mouth drops open, and he slowly walks up to the Bel Air. He runs a hand over the sleek black paint gleaming under the building’s bright floodlights. “She’s beautiful, Dean. I don’t know what to say.”

Dean opens the driver’s side door and stands aside, waving a hand to usher Cas inside. Before he can sit, though, Dean reaches out and grabs Cas’s wrist. “Wait, lemme see your keychain.”

Cas hands it absently to Dean as he admires the new custom leather seats. “You had these specially made?”

Dean clips the Bel Air’s keys onto the ring next to Cas’s house key, and steps up to stand beside Cas. “Yep. Special bumblebee seats.” Dean fidgets for a second, wondering if he’s gone too far. Sure, Charlie thought they were cute, and even the guys over at the upholstery shop had rushed delivery when they heard the story behind the unusual order, black with a yellow vee inset into each seat back. But if Cas doesn’t like it, he’ll gladly tear the whole thing out and start over.

Cas slides in behind the wheel, and touches every part of the car he can reach. He adjusts the rear view mirror, slides his hands over the steering wheel, and then runs his fingertips down the soft leather of the seat. “I love it, Dean. She’s perfect.”

Dean stands there for a minute, basking in Cas’s happiness, and then remembers he’s still got the keys. “You wanna drive her home then?” Dean passes the key to Cas, who looks up at him with a glazed but elated look. When Cas doesn’t immediately grab the keys, Dean jingles them a bit, grinning widely at him. “C’mon, man, maiden voyage of the beemobile.”

“Beemobile?” Cas scowls at him playfully, and takes the keys. He starts her up and feels the engine roar. It startles him a little bit. “She sounds almost as terrifying as your car, Dean. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You think I’d let you drive some sissy little car, Cas? My baby’s got a bigger engine, but the beemobile can hold her own.”

“Stop calling her the beemobile, Dean.”

Dean snorts. “What, not dignified enough for you?”

Cas revs the engine a couple of times, and listens to it roar. “I think I’ll call her Sting.”

“What, like the singer?”

“No, like Bilbo Baggins’ sword. It’s small and unassuming, but,” he revs the engine again, raising an eyebrow at Dean, who laughs.

“Yeah, I get it. Sting it is. So I’ll see you at home?”

“Not if I see you first.” Cas grins up at him, slams the door shut, throws the Bel Air into gear, and peels out of the parking lot like he’s been possessed by the spirit of the moonshine bootlegger who’d been the car’s original owner.

 

For Cas, the rest of the week is an exhausting haze of packing and unpacking, punctuated by long stretches of the mind-numbing drudgery of reading and assessing a staggering number of midterms. His only saving grace is coming home to Dean every night.

Dean helps him bring in box after box of books, finding space in the corner of his old room to store them until the weekend, when he’ll have the time to assemble the new bookshelves he brings home on Thursday.

The two of them eat dinner together every night, catching up on their day. It’s become something of an after-dinner tradition to spend a few minutes on Tumblr, answering the messages that are still coming in about their relationship. Cas hasn’t been posting a lot, as busy as he’s been. He’s been so swamped with moving and settling in with Dean, he hasn’t really had much time for anything else. He thought about posting a picture of his books all packed neatly into boxes, and writing something up about how awful moving can be, but he doesn’t want to deal with the inevitable questions about whether he’s moving to be closer to his Fiance Anon.

Sure, Dean hasn’t objected to revealing generalities about their relationship, such as the fact that it exists in the real world, outside of Tumblr. And Dean had been the one to suggest posting a photograph of them. It's mainly Cas’s desire to keep their identities private. Then again, revealing that he's moved in with Dean wouldn’t compromise their anonymity any more than the photograph of their feet did.

No, Cas admits to himself, he isn’t worried about being unmasked as Human_Bee-ing, he's worried about being judged for his actions, even anonymously. He and Dean had been friends for more than a year. At least, Cas likes to think of their anonymous online relationship as a friendship. Even still, it's been less than two weeks since they’d finally met properly, face to face. Strangely enough, it's also been more than a week since he stopped thinking of his apartment as “home.” Home is wherever Dean is, and he doesn’t really care what anyone else thinks of that.

By Friday morning, Cas is feeling drained and uneasy. He’s got the whole day off, since he’s finished administering midterms, but he’s also got a huge pile of essays still to review, perhaps three or four more trips to finish clearing out his old apartment, and hopefully he can eke out a little time to work on his own research. He’s been so focused on all of these practicalities that every time he takes a moment to sit back and relax, he’s stunned anew to realize what a gift he’s been given. He slumps back in his chair at the kitchen table, dressed in his cozy blue bathrobe and a pair of Dean’s sweats, and lets himself feel the awe inspired by this man sitting next to him.

Yes, it’s possible to feel awed by a guy slurping down Cheerios as fast as he can shovel them into his mouth.

The thought makes Cas snort, drawing Dean’s attention, spoon raised halfway to his mouth, milk dripping back into his bowl.

“What’s funny?” Dean looks down at his shirt, and brushes a hand over his lap. “Did I spill something?”

Cas shakes his head, leaning forward in his chair and resting an elbow on the table. “No, I’m simply musing over the last two weeks.”

Dean grins, and shoves the spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth, somehow managing to chew flirtatiously, which makes Cas laugh again. He lets Dean finish eating, and then tentatively raises the subject where all of his thoughts have been leading him.

“I’ve been considering posting something about moving.”

Dean shrugs, finishing his coffee, and then taking his dishes to the sink. “Seems like a good idea. It’s been keeping you too busy to spend much time on the blog, and I know, as one of your formerly-in-the-dark anons, that when you disappear from your blog, it freaks people out a little bit.”

Cas stands up and walks up behind Dean, where he’s still washing his dishes. He wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, and props his chin on Dean’s shoulder. “You were the only one who ever _freaked out_ when I disappeared from the blog for a few days, Dean.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean ducks his head, and covers his almost-blush by reaching for a dishtowel to dry his hands. “I might be the only one who flooded your ask box, but I know some of those other people care about you, too.”

Cas lets Dean have a moment to recover, then turns him around in his arms and looks him right in the eye. “I wanted to be sure it was okay with you before I posted about moving, Dean. I know that people will assume I am moving to be closer to you, especially when we continue to post together. Inevitably, someone will ask if we are living together. Others will certainly assume that we are.”

“So?” Dean doesn’t even flinch. “You said it yourself on Sunday, Cas. You can’t stop people from thinking or saying shit. Anyone who’s got a problem with us living together can kiss my ass. “

“They certainly may not, Dean.” Cas narrows his eyes at Dean, but holds him tighter, the tiniest flicker of a smile twitching at his lips.

“Figuratively.” Dean leans in for a kiss. “You post whatever the hell you want to, Cas, and I’ll have your back no matter what anyone else thinks. You got it?”

“Yes, Dean, I got it.”

“Good. Now I gotta get to the garage, but I should be home early today. Charlie’s coming in again to close out the week’s receipts, so I’ll be free by about three, if you want to make one last trip to get the rest of your stuff.”

“I’d like that very much.” Cas smiles up at Dean, and then leans in and kisses him goodbye.

“Good, then I’ll meet you over there at three.” Dean presses a soft kiss just in front of Cas’s ear, and then whispers a soft “I love you,” before taking off for the day.

 

Cas spends the morning at the kitchen table, plowing through school work as fast as his conscience will let him. He’s down to the last few papers when his stomach growls, and he realizes it’s almost noon. He takes a break and makes himself a sandwich, eating it as he finally finishes scanning through the last essay. A quick few words jotted on a post-it note are more than enough to relay his thoughts on the quality of that particular essay. He doesn’t envy Professor Cain having to come to a similar conclusion in red pen on the essay itself. Then again, in a few short months, it will be Cas’s red pen ripping directly into his students’ words, but he can’t bring himself to feel bad about about it today. He has a Tumblr post to write.

He stashes the pile of graded essays in one of his empty moving boxes, with the intention of dropping them off with Professor Cain on his way back to his old apartment. He grabs his phone, and then heads up to the room that is ostensibly his office. It looks more like a storage locker at the moment, one wall stacked shoulder high with boxes of books and the other little things he’s collected since he left Chicago. There’s also three long boxes from Ikea containing the bookshelves he and Dean will assemble to house his collection in their new home.

Cas takes a few pictures, then selects the one he took while lying on the floor, because it  makes the towering pile of boxes look the most imposing. Yes, that’s definitely the one that most accurately sums up his feelings about moving. He grins at the picture, and then heads back downstairs to create his post.

Dean’s laptop is just where they left it the previous night after answering an anon message about how they were doing. Cas hadn’t thought twice about replying that they were both doing wonderfully, but that it had been a busy week, and hopefully they would have more time for catching up on Tumblr over the weekend.

Dean has been sending constant Fiance Anon messages while he’s been at work, some of which Cas answers on the blog, but others he answers with text messages because _I am not posting something publicly about that thing you do with your tongue, Dean. I don’t care how good it feels_. There’s probably another such message from Dean waiting in his inbox, but he needs to write up his moving post before letting Dean distract him.

Cas decides to start the post off with an apology, and go from there. He’s not exactly sure what he even intends to say, until the words begin flowing out of him. The more he writes, the less concerned he is about what people will think of him, and the happier and more settled he feels in his decision to move in with Dean. Just like the words themselves, everything about his relationship with Dean seems right.

 

_I haven’t been online much this week. Sadly, I haven’t had the time. So many things have seemed to happen all at once, and I’ve been pressed for time from all directions. Between a particularly busy week at work and an equally frenzied personal situation, I feel like I’ve barely even had a moment to rest._

_Things in the real world will be settling down again soon for me, and this blog will hopefully settle down along with it. I apologize if updates have been few and far between. I hope this update will help to explain why, at least in part._

_The picture above is a goodly portion of my worldly possessions. I gave up my apartment, and have moved in with the Fiance Anon. Yes, it’s official. We are living together. To everyone who has been following along with our story, perhaps you can understand the strange mix of feelings I’ve had about this. I feel I’ve known him forever, and that somehow our meeting was long overdue; but at the same time it’s overwhelming and astonishing. I find myself just looking at him sometimes, and not having any words to describe him, or what I’m feeling, or how I ended up here. I will have to content myself with simply being grateful to know he feels the same way about me._

_So while I haven’t been around as much as usual, believe me when I tell you that it is only for the best possible reasons. Take care of yourselves, and we will be back to our regular posting soon._

 

Cas reads his words over three times, his heart pounding a little harder each time, and then posts it before he chickens out and deletes it. He clicks over to check on the few new messages in his inbox, the first of which is, unsurprisingly, from Dean.

 

_The Queen brought me a sandwich for lunch, and she sends her regards. She thinks we need to throw a housewarming party. Can you believe that? How is it our friends always want to plan parties for us to host? Gotta admit, I kinda like the idea of this one, you know? I’d include a link to a picture of my toes for identification purposes, but I think it’s safe to assume you know it’s from me. <3 Fiance Anon_

 

Cas laughs to himself as he hits the reply button, and adds his own message below Dean’s before posting it.

 

_I am eternally in the Queen’s debt, then. She can consider this her official invitation to this and any future parties we are dragooned into hosting. And of course I know it’s you. <3 Bumblebee_

 

He hesitates on posting for just a second. They’d never signed their names with cutesy little emoticon hearts before, but then he thinks, what the hell. He’s already posted about moving in together. What’s a little heart going to say that his last post didn’t? He posts the message, and shuts the laptop with a grin. This is his life now, and he is ready for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! Thank you again for reading. Come say hi on tumblr. I'm [mittensmorgul](http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com) and I don't bite. Usually.
> 
> ~~I have one more short story planned for this 'verse. Might be a bit before I get a chance to write it, but I promise it's coming eventually. :)~~
> 
> Technically I still have one more short story planned for this 'verse, but I ended up writing Christmas fluff in a bewildering fit of good cheer. I just didn't want anyone to mistake the Christmas fluff for the actual planned story... :D


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